


the time i am

by rosyemperor



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, Side!Minhwan, Time Travel, but there's something, hwangcloud are besties, not major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:41:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyemperor/pseuds/rosyemperor
Summary: Life has its ways for it to always turn out well in the end.Alternatively: Sungwoon is a time traveller but he doesn't control it all that well.





	the time i am

**Author's Note:**

> Dear prompter, I hope you will like what I did with your prompt! I loved it since I laid my eyes on it.
> 
> Special thank you to nuest95s for revising this, I am forever thankful ♥
> 
> Of course, another thank you to my soulmate m for putting up with me throughout this whole process!! Thank youuuu ♥
> 
> I hope this will be enjoyable.

The lineal flowing of time was a constant, supposedly. Today was followed by tomorrow, and not yesterday; 1996 came right after 1995, not 1326; the succession was morning, afternoon, night, and not any other way.

Except, that wasn’t always true for Sungwoon.

  
It was April 1953 when it first happened. He had been born at some point. He existed then, and started making small memories. For example, he remembered the way the flowers bloomed all around him, painting the world in a hundred different colours, their aroma impregnating the sweet air breeze with freshness. There were some other things as well; he knew he was twenty because his family and friends had celebrated his birthday back in March, telling him still about what a funny party he had thrown, but that was his only recollection of a birthday, ever.

  
Maybe he could conjure up some names in his mind as well –not knowing how they got there, though— but that was about it. Were it not for the people who seemed certain that they knew him, Sungwoon would believe he just appeared on the world in April 1953, twenty years old, waltzing around like it was what everyone did. There was a voice in his head that told him it wasn’t the norm, but honestly, how did said voice –his inner self, maybe— know? He stopped wondering how he knew things if he couldn’t remember learning them, because it was giving him constant headaches –and he didn’t enjoy those.

  
When the flowers embellished the earth with their blushes and tints, Sungwoon looked around and didn’t recognise a thing. One second, he had been strolling down the streets, not a care in the world, and the next he was inside a building, a way-too-high-for-someone-so-small edifice. He was facing a huge window, so wide there was no wall, just glass. He suddenly felt unshielded. A fear of falling into the emptiness taking over his body. It wasn’t comfortable at all. The inner voice was there again, telling him not to panic because he was not going to descend into oblivion. He was getting kind of annoyed by the tiny know-it-all inside his head.

  
He took a deep breath, trying to relax himself Mouth wide open, his heart –whose racing had peaked— calmed down. The landscape in front of his eyes was enough to make every heart in there race, though. He had never witnessed such a scene –then again, he hadn’t witnessed much.

 

The floor he was standing on seemed to be floating in the sky, clouds all around him, white and spongy. The light blue of the sky painting the room in a calmed tone, matching the whole atmosphere of the place. Some other tall buildings could be seen, yet none as high as his. From this altitude, he could scan the whole city that was bursting with life under his feet, and Sungwoon decided he liked that more than he liked 1953.

  
At that time, the voice in his head really should’ve said something. Namely: ‘how do you think you’re going to live’ or ‘you’re actually like a new-born baby so maybe roaming around a city you don’t know in a time you don’t know while being completely alone isn’t the best idea’, but it stayed quiet. Back in 1953 he was pretty much clueless about the world too but at least he had had people around him. He had a home as well, something he didn’t right then. Ignoring all of that, he went around the building, marvelling at every little thing, like the way the skyscrapers’ glasses reflected the orange hues of the sun on them, or the assorted machines around him. Strangely enough, his brain knew how to name everything, even if the whole concept was foreign for him. The sensation was unsettling, but he was somewhat used to it.

1953 had been familiar, but nothing had prepared him for the wave of belonging he had as he stood there and looked around. The way the sun filtered through the buildings and its rays diffracted all around him, shining on the slightly wet black of the pavement. It conjured an image in his mind, almost like a map and his feet followed suit to the path his brain created. The city was bustling with life, people rushing everywhere and so many sounds, smells… his feelings should’ve felt clouded. Instead, he was relishing the sensation, the activity. His heart had never beaten this fast, and it was energising, as he took a deep breath and wandered through the streets.

  
After a while, every building looked the same and still, he was amazed by all of them. Skyscrapers, quite the invention, right? The stories they held with all that height and how imposing they were, watching over the city from up there. Even if all of them were apparently undistinguishable, he noticed that their purposes were varied, from offices, to hotels, houses and everything in between. His pace slowed as he approached a tall, white apartment building which name was blurred out, only the number readable. Instinctively, he reached into his pocket, surprised to find a pair of keys and opened the door.

 

Then, Ha Sungwoon entered the building. He climbed the stairs, all five flights of them. His legs were burning and he was panting but luckily, he knew which door to knock on.

  
“You arrived early today, darling.” A woman greeted from the door, welcoming him inside. The woman, who Sungwoon recognised as his mother (how was it even possible?) made way for him, and closed the door right after he entered. A warm smile graced her face, her eyes slightly closed. Sungwoon felt right. “Was school cut short?”

  
Warmth emitted from the hand suddenly place on his shoulder, and it had a relaxing effect, almost somnolent as he was guided across the house. The walls on the kitchen were white, but they had a yellowish quality to them and they told the story of thousands of meals shared over the plastic table pressed on the wall across the door.  A soup was cooking on the stove, a tasty scent filling the room and God, didn’t it smell like home. It was almost as if something in Sungwoon’s mind activated, and he could see himself sitting at that same kitchen, stuffing his face with candies while his mother’s voice warned him against doing so before lunch time. He ate them all the same, and still had room for two bowls of homemade soup.

  
Thankfully, there was a wall behind him when the wave of memories suddenly came. It came like a crash, like watching a hundred movies unravel in front of your eyes at the same time. His brain couldn’t keep up, because one second he was looking at his 5-year-old self, playing on the streets with Minhyun. Then, he was thirteen, and about as tall as he was right then, bag heavy on his back while he made his way to high school. The moments weren’t always relevant, so his head was sorting the memories as fast as it could, and he felt like he was going to explode. At some point, his mother had sat him on the table, worry visible in her face. She had always been burdened by every little thing, like the one time he had fell on the streets and cut his hand and his mother almost rushed him to the hospital. Memories kept popping in his head, prompted by the littlest things.

  
Five minutes later, he could easily remember his whole life. Almost. Because there was no connection between whatever flooded his mind right then and the memories he had created the past weeks. He rested his head on his hands, elbows on the table, a glass of water in front of him. His mother now sat beside him, a hand on his thigh. If she was saying anything, Sungwoon wasn’t listening. Thoughts were trying to take form and explain that literal temporal gap, but there was nothing. His life stopped at some point, texting “The Superior Bitches” and going to bed; his new memories began on a bed in the 50s, the scent of freshly baked goods through his window and his mother (not the one who stared at him doe eyed sitting in the kitchen) calling his name. It was almost as if he had jumped from one time to the other, and his brain hurt only trying to make sense of it.

 

So, like he did with most of the things that gave him a headache, he put it aside. That last blank which hadn’t been filled seeped back, quickly overran by the stream of information. What didn’t make sense was violently shoved it to the depths of his subconscious as he tried to adjust to finally _knowing_.

  
The glass of water was still on the table, light filtering through it and making a rainbow in the white of the floor tiles. He played with it on his feet, observing how the reflection shone differently depending on how much he lifted his legs, but before he could break himself, his mother took the glass in her hands.

 

“Sungwoon?”

There was an audible annoyance in the way she let out his name, hanging it high at the end, albeit it couldn’t hide the concern in which it was meant. The woman was the most caring person in the world, if his memories were anything to go by, having supported him in literally everything he decided to do in the moment. Throughout his life, he had signed up for many things, basketball, football, ballet… he got tired easily, and his attention shifted quickly from one thing to the other. His whole life seemed so recent –having come back to him right that second, and all that— it was easy to pinpoint the common denominators that shone in its entirety: his mother, his father, his little sister, Minhyun. They were always there, through his every phase and until he found his passion in music, all kinds of it. His parents had always been so encouraging even though he was anything but reliable in his pastimes. Just like before with the memories, he was engulfed by a sudden wave of feelings and gratitude. He threw his hands around his mother’s frame, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you, Mom, thank you.”

The woman smiled sweetly despite having been taken aback by the unexpected display of affection. Sungwoon stood up once he released her from his embrace, and she rushed him to get changed into his pyjamas. He agreed with a smile, his mother’s hand patting his right arm tenderly. He made his way into his room.

 

In that, he missed the way his mother sat, forehead rested on her hands and muttering, “I can’t believe it happened again.”

Pictures hung on the walls, they  were filled with laughing faces and pure happiness that overcame the stillness of an image. The moments replayed in Sungwoon’s mind one by one; guiltiness for forgetting his life creeping inside even if he would never erase his memories on purpose. The bed welcomed him like a soft cloud under his body, relaxing to the point he wanted to fall asleep. There was also the mental exhaustion taking over again. His whole life was there again—it was probably there, locked somewhere the whole time—but he had spent a month making new memories in a place that weren’t there and, most importantly, _then_. He couldn’t actually let that slide, even if he had took his time to realise the weirdness of it all.

  
If he’d only opened his eyes while he was laying on the bed, it could’ve been a dream. But he had suddenly appeared on a skyscraper when a second before he had been enjoying the colourful carnations off his garden, in a time where a smartphone like the one on his bedside table couldn’t even be imaginable. And he, for one, had no idea how that happened.

  
So, he laid in bed, his task of changing into his pyjamas completely forgotten, and tried to conjure up a nexus between the last 2018 day he remembered and the first 1953 day. For someone who was contemplating the option of having time-travelled, he was quite poised, not pulling his hairs out one by one or anything. For now, in-between all his turning and tossing plus some muffled screams of frustration, he’d basically be able to write a 100k essay on fine morning, afternoon and night of March 30th:

  
First, he had been woken up by the lovely smell of freshly baked goods, the greed to get a butter croissant –both his and his little sister’s favourite— driving him out of bed while he was still in a slumbered state in which it was almost impossible to form a coherent thought. His sister, being the youngest in the family and all, had been faster so he just sat at the table defeatedly, and settled for a cereal bun, which was the next best thing. That morning he splurged it on jam, partly because he wanted to treat himself, but mostly because it was too early to repress his misaimed pettiness and wanted to empty the can so his sister wouldn’t get any (when she offered him half of the croissant he dropped the knife and she ended up getting some marmalade as well as half of the cereal bun).

  
Then, he changed into some casual clothes and checked his phone, calling Minhyun –his best friend, who had called him around 10 times— back. It rang once before a melodic “hello?” came from the other side, followed by a “WHAT, DID YOU LOSE YOUR PHONE OR YOUR EARS?” after Sungwoon said it was him calling. Flash forward ten minutes and there was Minhyun, dressing as informal as he could with a face that made everything look elegant, sitting in his car and quoting Mean Girls to the brunette.

 

“I’m going blond.” His friend stated with seriousness when Sungwoon walked into the car. He fastened his seat belt before the black-haired had time to nag him for it, and stared at Minhyun, trying to picture him as a blond with all his might. After a while, a “Sure you will” was what he managed, the image of a Regina George Minhyun not being a thing he wanted to see. The tall boy just shrugged and assured he was bent on doing so, and proceeded to make the whole conversation about that until they reached the university.

They each went their own way after leaving the car and agreeing to call each other when classes were over to eat together or something. Sungwoon wanted to stay in the library, knowing perfectly that there was no way he was going to study if he didn’t, but Minhyun was not going to study just yet—he had no idea how or when or even if the dark-haired studied—so he would have to work him into agreeing. He was positive in his success; even if Minhyun would end up taking breaks to talk to literally half the student body. He only needed to feel obligated to stay, and for that it was enough that Minhyun didn’t leave for home.

It was his second-to-last year, and the end of it was also approaching fast. Three days ago, it had been September, but all of a sudden it was nearing March’s culmination and April would fly and then it would be May which was almost June which obviously meant the great wind-up, exams and all that. Just like the river ferociously making its way through the earth, flowed time, wild and never stopping no matter the rocks in the way, and moulding the world as it pleased. He shook his head, ungluing his eyes from the window, shifting his attention back to the teacher who animatedly went on and on about functions and, honestly, how could someone look so hyper about them? Forgetting all about the ruthlessness in which the time just kept on passing, he took notes all the while.

  
It wasn’t a long day, despite having had roughly half an hour to have breakfast. He had spent it wisely in a bar not far from Uni where one of his best friends named Wonshik had landed a job and treated him and Jongin to one free breakfast for every four they paid for. Life was good, sitting in the cafeteria, going on about nothing and everything with Jongin and Wonshik, who made pauses only to barge into their conversation to add the most absurd of comments.

  
Back in class, everything was normal. The bulk of that day being subjects from his math major, apart from that one History of the World class he had decided to take due to Taehyun’s persistence. Apparently, he had a friend there to whom he wanted to introduce Sungwoon. And, besides, “you’ve always been an ace in History, and you’ve loved it a lot since you were little, and I miss having you in my class… do you only care about Minhyun now because he minors in math and so you share classes?” his friend had said, making him agree almost immediately only to prove him wrong.

 

Unfortunately, he must’ve had lost the knack for History because most of the times he walked into that class, he wanted to pull his hair out, not to speak about almost having to glue his hand to his seat to refrain from slapping Haknyeon—Taehyun’s oh so likable friend. Apart from that, it was alright, even if he didn’t manage to convince Minhyun to study after class.

  
On the car ride back home, Minhyun told him all about how Kim Jaehwan had the exact opposite of a conscience and well, he’d have to eat really fast, because he had booked the hairdresser for that afternoon after being pushed by Jaehwan. And he might be having a date with said Kim Jaehwan right after bleaching his whole scalp. And yes, he had agreed to all of it because, as he had previously mentioned, Kim Jaehwan was Minhyun’s lack of self-control incarnate. And Sungwoon listened, fascinated by how out of character Minhyun had been that morning, especially compared to his uneventful day.

 

He wasn’t even going to try to study at home because he knew how that was going to end—textbooks forgotten on the bed and a smartphone in his hands—so, inspired by Minhyun’s sudden bravery, he decided to spice up his afternoon a bit.

 

That meant taking an extra piano class that week, challenging an especially hard piece that would possibly earn him his maestra’s praises. And then, to truly shake his world… he would go to a different café, one he had never tried so he wouldn’t ask for the usual, thinking up something creative instead. Yes, it wasn’t the same as bleaching your hair and going on a date with your classmate, but hey, he was only feeling a little brave, not a whole lot.

Around five, when more than an hour had gone by since he had eaten, Sungwoon stood up, feeling slightly guilty for not studying and above everything, grateful he hadn’t actually called Yumi, because it would be embarrassing to cancel. So what if the spacy change was going to end up being to study at home? No one said spicy meant useless. Regardless, the new café plan was still on, because if he was determined to revise History of the World and live to tell the tale, he was going to need the caffeine. With the same clothes from school, he ventured into the streets, wandering in no particular direction.

A slightly pink wall caught his eye; there was something entrancing in the dance of the sun rays that made the colour acquire such a quality. It was almost magical, and Sungwoon wondered if he was legitimately losing it because there was no way a normal café could look like a portal to a castle if not from his lack of sleep. Though, if the outside had been enthralling, the cosy ambient on the inside was what sold him. The smell of pastries and bread in the air was almost as homely as the fireplace which warmed hands and hearts alike.

Behind the counter stood a man with dark hair and a warm smile. He looked no older than himself, but the big doe eyed of the other seemed to tell a hundred stories, deep as wells and dark as the night sky. The stars, though, hid in a side of his face. His cheeks were adorned by three moles, resembling a constellation, and Sungwoon was rendered speechless for a second.

“What do you want, sir?”

The brunette had no idea what to order, the much-needed coffee long gone from his mind due to the overexposure to the sweet scents around him. Under the crystal hid the most well-crafted pastries he had ever seen, made with such a delicate hand that Sungwoon wondered if they were even edible. His mouth was agape.

“Undecided? Look, since it’s your first visit—” The man stopped, a smile on his lips. His uneven teeth flashing behind, giving him a childlike charm.

 

“This,” He said, quickly wrapping a heart-shaped pastry and giving it to Sungwoon. “Is on the house, and for the drink, I would recommend a ‘caramel al burro salato’ coffee, it’s sweet, but not overly so.”

After a nod from Sungwoon, the boy got to it. The dark haired boy’s hands moved swiftly, mixing the materials with mastery in the big, bronze blender. He asked him for his preference—hot or iced—and he decided on the former, so the younger heated the milk before adding it to the mix and pouring it into a medium-sized to-go cup, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. Sungwoon’s eyes had been glued to the other the whole time, but somehow missed the extra something he added before dispensing the drink. He was sure the dependent had not asked for his name, but still, on the plastic there was a “Sungwoon ⏳☆” in striking black ink. Of course, he wouldn’t notice that until he arrived home and put the coffee on the table, pouring it all over the last theme of History while the phone rang furiously.

The dark-haired boy (hair gone slightly grey if the Sun filtered through the glass in the right way) waved him goodbye from the inside, a wry grin on his lips. Sungwoon sipped on his scalding hot coffee all the way home, deciding to shift to the pastry because of the burnt state of his tongue. The chocolate was so intense that even with a numbed sense of taste he could feel its flavour. He absentmindedly chewed on it until he reached the door to his apartment, and only stopped eating to open the door. He greeted his family, who were immersed in a tv show and went into his room. Of course, the coffee ruined his papers. Minhyun called him, and Sungwoon decided to take a break and fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes, he had no idea who he was, and the year became 1953.

And that was about it, in almost perfect detail. Those were his activities during his last day on 2018, and nothing about it screamed time-travel in his mind. Like, sure, there were out of place events here and there, like Minhyun, of all people, having a date, or Sungwoon actually deciding to study alone at home. But, nothing worth making his body jump 70 years back. Maybe it was because he was studying for History? It wouldn’t be a mad guess, right? (And it’s not like assuming time-travel was the only answer was a sane idea, anyway). Endless tosses later, Sungwoon’s body and mind were exhausted, so he fell asleep.

 

 

 

> 1950s

 

 

Fields of flowers filled the streets in which he walked, mostly carnations. There was something familiar about the environment, and it called on something from the back of his mind. In his sleep, he let himself walk around the streets he knew surprisingly well, obviously not yet conscious to recognise them. When hours later he woke up back in 1953, he wanted to slap himself for not having opened his eyes when the eeriness of the past was all around him.

Flash forward a few days later, and he was still in the 50s. If he hadn’t recovered his memories, 2018 would seem like a dream, but he knew that was not his place, not his time. Every night, he fell asleep dreaming of his actual life, unable to seep into the one he was currently living. After a while, he stopped trying, shifting into wondering if, perhaps, it was better to not know. At least that way he could live a life, fit it.

No longer was he able to look at that mother like his own, no matter how tenderly she treated him, with how much love everyone looked at him. There was no little sister in 1953, for example, and the huge house felt lonely and cold, almost lifeless. It was excruciating, but two weeks after, he just… surrendered, and tried to go on. Everyone had noticed there was something wrong, though no one said anything, but the way his friends hung around him longer than necessary was… noticeable. Sungwoon couldn’t help but be thankful, fondness flourishing in his heart towards all those who treated him like a long-time presence in their lives.

Maybe he was—he had no idea how his power, for a lack of a better word, worked, so he could have lived countless lives for all he knew. Thinking about it, he truly was clueless as to what he did. Was he real in different eras simultaneously? Was he in someone else’s body? Did the jumps come with a free pass of friends? Next time, he would have to fill out a complaints page and ask for a manual, because it was unfair. Sure, most people would give at least half a lung to visit other moments in history but all he had done by then was jump unknowingly, lose his memory and jump unwillingly. But anyway, since he had that, he should make the most of it right? And, judging by the lack of a mentor or similar kind of role model, he opted to go for trial and error.

Needless to say, he did nothing. All he remembered doing both times is falling asleep and doing nothing. Which meant he was stuck in 1953.

He attended class, hung out with cute kids like Chanyeol—actually older than him, but a baby at heart—and took piano classes, just to keep some things of his actual life. Every day, it felt less weird to come home to another family, and maybe, with time, it wouldn’t feel foreign at all. It was a nice life, he thought. Sure, it got boring and unbearable at times, what with the people closest to him not being there. The lack of modern technology. Old-fashioned rules. It was hell at times. More than  25% of the time. Anyway, he was working on it.

Trial and error was, indeed, leading nowhere. Three months since his return and he still had no fucking clue what to do. The library wasn’t of much help either, obviously. He did end up reading pretty interesting stories, namely the etymology of various words, or books on romance that derived so greatly from what he was used to. For lack of  better entertainment, Sungwoon began to frequent the library, and the trial and error got quietly pushed out to the side because of the newfound routine. Every day, he went to Uni, hung around a bit with Chanyeol, Nayoung and co., then rode the bus back home, had lunch with his father and mother (his older brother, as he had learned he had, was living with his girlfriend), laid in bed for an hour and then headed to the library at around five with a bag full of  homework and texts. Once in the library, he revised for some time. The things he was studying were… so absolutely different from his modern major that he was weirdly thriving due to the flow of information he was receiving. After a while, though, he would get bored nonetheless and end up picking a book at random. Whether it was a theoretical book, a literary work or a comic, he would read it, learning though it so much about the time he was living in.

It was outstanding how much one could learn about a culture from the way they wrote and expressed themselves. The best part of it all was the lack of effort he had to put into learning, doing so without even realising it.

  
When the clock struck eight, he would head home. Except, that one Wednesday, he didn’t.

For once, he had picked a book too short to last for more than half an hour, so, too much time in his hands and not wanting to head home yet, he wandered through the streets. Before going back to his time and recovering his memories, he used to stroll around a lot, taking the landscapes in. After it, the ambles turned bittersweet for some reason, the carnations bringing back the reminiscences of his every fail to return when he belonged.

Countless times, he had picked up some flower off the street where he was when he opened his eyes in the high building. He had smelled them, looked at them, put them in his bedside and fell asleep with them by his side. None of it worked, so he just…didn’t want to look at carnations at all. With summertime approaching and the closing of exam period being soon, it was either walking around or hiding in home with a very worried mother-poser. He had never been one to stay in long.

Beside the library, there was a milkshake place. Taemin and Hakyeon, who claimed to be childhood best friends between the three, and Soojung, a somewhat new addition to the trio and long-time best friend of Taemin, had asked him countless times to drop by the place. Finally, he did.

 

The bright pink of the neon partially blinded him for 0.3 seconds, it was so excessive yet nice somehow, it didn’t make sense in Sungwoon’s head, the way everything was styled back then. He liked it though, the overall aesthetic. It was always summery and happy, maybe because he was yet to live through a winter.

 

Inside, everything was pastel, pastel pink, pastel blue, pastel purple. Pastels, pastels, pastels. And pastries in beige. And milkshakes in baby pink. And a lively ambiance that made him regret his bitterness and inability to let go and enjoy. Everyone was chatting animatedly, and he spotted his friends sitting somewhere on the top floor of the place. Soojung was wearing her hair up in a ponytail, bangs plastered to her forehead slightly, with red lips and a bright yellow dress. Taemin was beside her, wearing a white shirt, distressed jeans, and a black leather jacket—probably just there for effect, since it was too hot to wear it. It was a look Sungwoon would like to copy in the future (both meanings of it). Hakyeon, though, was rocking the preppy style, beige caramel pants and a baby blue thin shirt. He suited the fashion immensely, though he would probably rock every outfit. He was wearing a navy blue and grey striped shirt with red pants and honestly felt a little underdressed, with his messy hair and glasses, backpack hanging from his tiny frame and almost engulfing him.

Nonetheless, the seating triad shouted his name as soon as they spotted him. He had to admit his heart felt a little warm. For the umptieth time in three months, he thought his luck wasn’t that bad, there were worse places to be stuck in. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to live a somewhat exciting and fulfilling lifetime there.

“Darling,” Hakyeon said, passing his arm across Sungwoon’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together to get a better angle to bop his nose. “Since you’re last to arrive, you go order. Mwah!”

Sungwoon looked a little puzzled before laughing it off and catch the flying kiss Hakyeon sent him when he shooed him off the table and onto the bar. The queue was slightly long, and definitely longer than what Sungwoon was usually up to waiting (that meant, there was more than one person before him), but, he was work bound by Hakyeon to order two strawberry milkshakes, a chocolate one and whatever Sungwoon wanted for himself. He had no choice but to stand in line until it was his turn.  
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long because the workers were shockingly efficient. In 2018 they were more advanced, but the way the dark-haired man made milkshakes was remarkable to say the least. It was almost as if he crafted them magically, not only making them look amazing but doing it with such swiftness. It was his turn before he realised, but he was so entranced in focusing on the worker’s hands his mind took at least five seconds to process the one who was supposed to take his order was right in front of him.

“Sir,” The girl—Olivia, according to her name tag—had luscious black hair and intense eyes and spoke with a well-mannered yet rushed tone. Sungwoon noticed that, albeit slightly, the girl was taller than him, and a ping of jealousy hit his chest. Nothing he wasn’t used to, though, always the tiny person in the room. “Your order?”

Shaking his head, he listed the four milkshakes, setting on a blueberry one for him and moved to the side. From there, he caught a better sight at the milkshake maker. Something about him sparked in Sungwoon’s mind, like a thought which didn’t finish to form. A fleeting feeling of familiarity, a call to link this to something else. A memory waiting to be conjured.

It wouldn’t be until he saw the “Sungwoon ⏳☆” written on the side of his drink that he would realise. Throughout the two hours he stayed there, chatting animatedly with his friends, the identity of the man tugged at his mind, getting pushed to the side every time for five more minutes.

Soojung was the first to leave, and Taemin insisted on taking her home, joking about not letting the lady walk alone before getting hit in the ribs by Soojung’s elbow. A witty remark about how the motorbike which would drop Taemin home was Soojung’s made the four of them erupt in laughter. Hakyeon and Sungwoon didn’t stay longer after that, just enough to finish their overpriced milkshakes and turning down his friend’s plea for alcohol a hundred times (“School’s not over yet,” Sungwoon cried. “And what about it?” retorted Hakyeon).

Luck seemed to be on his side, because he caught the dark-haired bartender just before he left. Not knowing his name, he just screamed ‘Hey!’ and hoped for the best. The other turned around, a smug on his lips that, all artifice aside, creeped Sungwoon out a bit.

“I know you.”

 

The other raised an eyebrow. The look in the taller boy’s eyes was scrutinizing, and after a while, just before Sungwoon was about to call him out, a sigh of relief left the other’s mouth.

“Finally!”

Finally? What on earth did ‘finally’ mean? Not in the literal way, he knew what finally meant. But in that context? He had only met the other boy as a bartender, if his mind had led him to the right memory. It had been the day he first appeared in 1953, the boy with a constellation in his face that served him in the magical café. And he hadn’t noticed his name on the coffee the first time, but it had ignited his mind when he said it this once, the other’s handwriting probably inked in his subconsciousness. The brunette had a hundred different questions and they were all unanswered, the most pressing one not being how the other had known his name since their first fleeting encounter, but how to travel back, because he obviously had done it too.

As if on cue, the taller—Seongwoo, he would later introduce himself as—approached him, passing his arm along Sungwoon’s shoulder with the outmost familiarity, smiling down at him with an air of superiority, like he knew something Sungwoon didn’t (he did).

That day, he arrived home later than ever.

That day, he also learned more than he had in a long time. First thing being that Seongwoo liked to blabber. The dark-haired seemed to enjoy going on and on about ostensibly useless stuff before getting to anything of importance. He jumped from subject to subject like it was his job and none of the ideas expressed led anywhere, always shifting to another matter before doing so. Sungwoon was always left hanging, which explained why the clock struck ten before he managed to grasp a single concept.

Second thing he learnt, or rather, confirmed is that he could, indeed, time-travel. Not many people were born with the gift, and even less people actually managed to make a jump. Once they jumped, though, they were likely to do it again and again and again… Until (if, Sungwoon thought) they settled.

 

He also learned that with the jumpers, came a time police. Seongwoo was said police, put there to supervise and make sure he didn’t mess up the continuum by either doing or not doing something relevant.

 

He also learned that the butterfly effect was not real, though he was advised against killing butterflies, for the sake of butterflies.

The last thing he learned on that fine Wednesday was the hardest to grasp, his mind not quite understanding the concept. Apparently, everything he will ever do, he had already done it, somewhere, somewhen. What he meant by that, Sungwoon had no idea, but Seongwoo didn’t seem too inclined to elaborate on his explanations. With a promise to meet again, they had parted ways.

The next day, he couldn’t focus on class, and everyone joked about it, concern hidden behind their snickers.

He fidgeted nervously while looking at the big round clock that hung from the wall. His room in 1953 was considerably bigger than his actual room, probably because he lived in a huge house then, as opposed to the tiny, expensive 2018 apartment. He tossed in bed, listening to the sound of the clock hands as they made their way, painstakingly slow, to the ‘5’. They hadn’t really agreed on an hour, but since his mind totally wouldn’t be able to take the usual reading session, he would drop by the milkshake place at the hour he usually left for the library, and just hope for the best.

He was so bored and nervous that he had gone for food around five times until, finally, it was a decent hour to leave. Not having even changed into his pyjamas despite his father advising him to (“Shrimp soup will get a big stain on your shirt, son”), when the clock signalled five he grabbed his keyset and off he went.

It didn’t catch him off-guard that his friends were there, after all, they had told him about the place countless times. At least that way he wouldn’t be alone were Seongwoo not there. That time, Hakyeon arrived seconds later than he did, so Sungwoon playfully sent him to get the drinks, the police was nowhere to be found, anyway.

“So,” Taemin said, scouting next to him. “not that I dislike your presence or anything, what brought you here again when you’ve been brushing us off for months?”

He swore he could feel his pupils shaking, even though no trace of malice was behind Taemin’s words. The thing was that ‘Well, I travel in time and that bartender from yesterday will be kind of my mentor’ was not the most acceptable answer, so he blurted the next best thing he could come up with.

“I want to score a date with the bartender.”

The look on Taemin’s face was closest to disgust.

“YOU WANT TO DATE OLIVIA? ARE YOU CRAZY? SHE’S SIXTEEN, SUNGWOON, SIXTEEN.”

The brunette rolled his eyes and facepalmed simultaneously. Maybe it hadn’t been his best idea nor his best lie ever, but he had no time to prepare and maybe he was not the best improviser ever. One couldn’t be talented in every area of life, it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else, would it?

“I… meant the man?”

Now he didn’t even want to look at Taemin. Mostly because he had realised his mistake three seconds too late. Even after being stranded in this era for longer than he wanted, he still had trouble getting their mindset through his skull. That meant that the old ideals in his mind existed as that, old ideals, not something to live by, which could lead him into situations like spurting not-so-socially acceptable things. Namely, liking men.

He didn’t know how 50s people would label the situation as, but for him, it was a fuck-up, and a huge one at that. Taemin’s face seemed to reflect the whole process that was probably being held inside his head, his every brain cell short-circuiting at once. Thank whatever was up there, Sungwoon was somehow quick.

“He’s… a police apprentice, and I want to pursue that, uhm, career way. So, I want to date him so he can explain the basics and train me a little.”

Perhaps he didn’t sound extremely convinced by his own words, but seeing as Soojung stopped darting her eyes from side to side, it was most definitely a success. Taemin gave a nervous laugh; it sounded awkward in its brevity and high pitch, but at least his face was somewhat back to normal. A few seconds later, Hakyeon laid down the milkshakes in a still silent table.

“Hey, guys, has everyone tried the milkshakes? I think the milkshakes are lovely.”

And the brunette snorted so loudly it must’ve been heard from the outside. Because it was so tremendously absurd that Hakyeon would make a pop culture reference from his era, obviously not meant to be a reference, rather a serious statement, and it only made sense for Sungwoon because he was a damned time-traveller. He was a time-traveller hearing someone quote a meme that would be born half a century after and he was there, 60 years back in time to hear it. And it was crazy and in the whole unravelling of things he had no time to realise but he was locked in the 50s and it was insane that he could even exist there but there he was and his mind couldn’t fully grasp the fact that he was doing the stuff of movies. Like Doctor Strange, but definitely worse dressed.

Much like that time back home, his head was pounding with all the information he was now assimilating. How he had been so chill for so long was a mystery to even himself, but as of now, he’d attribute it to shock. Of course, because there was not a person who wouldn’t be shocked to find out that their body, mind and soul had made a jump in time, not once, but twice. On top of that, he still had no idea how that had happened, or why him, and not his neighbour, for example. It was terrifying in many ways, to hold such a power, to be able to change the past and impact the future. To see what would be and what has been, and he was not equipped to deal with all of that. He could do so much, but he wasn’t sure he even wanted to in the first place.

Sure, he had always liked history ever since he was a little kid, but unlike other kids his age, he had never dreamt of building a time machine, or time-travel, in general. He was simpler, and would settle for acting or dressing up. But he, of all people, was now in the 50s and it was crazy.

He excused himself and, leaving three stunted friends and four milkshakes on the table, he darted outside. It was his lucky day, because Seongwoo had seen him run, and followed the brunette, screaming something about stamina as well as his name. When the boy finally reached the brunette, it was because he had let himself fall to the ground, knees too weak to keep going. He hadn’t even realised he was crying, but Seongwoo held him and stood him up, walking the both of them to his house.

The building was petite, a soft yellow painting the walls, increasing the sensation of overall warmth. On both sides of the wooden door, there were windows that took up more space than they should’ve, and under them, small “gardens” with some sunflowers mostly hidden in greenery. The inside wasn’t much different, except there were things here and there that didn’t quite belong. The TV was too big, the speakers definitely shouldn’t exist, the smartphone on the table which screen lighted up every two seconds hadn’t even been invented in 2018, and Sungwoon somehow got out of his trance.

“What the fuck?” he said softly.

 

His hand grasped Seongwoo’s shoulder lightly, to push himself up, fully standing now. He looked around, his eyes darting from side to side. The more he looked, the more achronalities he found. For one, the whole furniture came definitely from Ikea.

 

In every corner, artefacts out of could-be-fucking-Asgard, take a shield whose colours changed when hit by the Sun and –as he would later find out— could shoot arrows more accurately than a bow (it didn’t come from Asgard or anything like it, though, because for some reason, the existence of different worlds sounded stupid to Seongwoo, but not time-travelling). And just like that, many things, which wasn’t helping his head clear out but was definitely keeping him interested and awake, which was enough.

Seongwoo sat him on the Ikea sofa, and placed himself in the one directly in front, legs opened slightly, his elbows resting on them, supporting his face with his hands.

“I see it finally hit you, huh?”

Sungwoon looked up from his feet, a nervous habit of him whenever his mind decided to disassociate. He had picked up that habit from Minhyun, though his best friend usually just stared into the horizon with no expression. He, on the other hand, would tap his feet rhythmically and just… gawk at them, his gaze unmoving.

“What?” Sungwoon answered, absentmindedly, as if he was in some kind of slumber state. He probably was, due to the second wave of shock. He was someone that enjoyed understanding the world, always priding himself in his knowledge of… well, everything. Maybe he didn’t make it very visible, like his best friend, who bragged about it more openly and enjoyed showing off how well-read and deep he was, for example. Sungwoon did it on the small things, like letting people know about random facts he just stored in the back of his mind for no reason, or always winning at trivia. He even sorted himself in Ravenclaw, so one could imagine the delight in all things intellectual he took, and how confused he was to have found something that confused him so; he had no idea about its methods nor mere reason for existence.

Sure, there were many inexplicable phenomena in nature that hadn’t found and explanation… yet. But time-travel? It couldn’t happen in that reality and still… there he was, seated at a 2018 table in 1953 with a time policeman whose house was filled with futuristic artefacts.

 

Of course, he was in a trance, the biggest mystery is how he had managed to not be in a trance for a month.

“I know it’s hard, you’re not the first one to get paralysed by the vagueness of this… everythingness. You humans have a mind so thick and close that sometimes, even ideas you have contemplated seem impossible. They’re there for a reason though, you know of time-travel because it exists, you know of vampires because they” Seongwoo made a pause. “somehow exist. Existed. It shouldn’t be that hard to wrap your heads around this reality, but you can’t, for some reason.”

Seongwoo was rambling, again. And Sungwoon was feeling annoyed, like a sting.

“Just because you’re used to something, it doesn’t mean everyone should be, Mr. Time Police.”

His voice sounded cold and direct, at least as much as he could make it sound in his high-pitched sweet glory. The other man had a nasal voice as well, anyway. Said boy sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering something that sounded like a complain about humans before looking at him intently and throwing a smile in his direction (it was a forced one, obviously).

“What I want to say is, that I was expecting this to happen sooner or later. Sooner rather than later, but it seemed to be later, which is why you haven’t been able to jump purposely. It’s tricky, you see, you can jump without realising, maybe with a little help of a… barista and a coffee, but you won’t be able to do it again until you are aware. So, Ha Sungwoon, are you aware?”

Was he?

As it turned out, not enough, seeing as how he had to spent two more weeks after that day with Seongwoo. They trained every day, his studies finally over –with acceptable grades and all— and all the time in his hands to spend it with the time theory and practise. Apparently, there were many rules and guidelines, as well as procedures to jump and make these more precise.

He couldn’t travel to history defining events like the murder of a historical figure (there it his ambition to save Anne Boleyn) nor change the fixed moments in History (so, basically, no wiping out horrifying happenings, as hard as it was). No revelation of his power. No staying too long in a place unless you were to set your life there, because time-travellers age differently, and it would be noticeable. Sungwoon listed the rules in his head over and over, making sure to engrave them.

As for the how-to, it was… harder. Unlike the to-dos and don’ts, the procedure seemed to be much less defined. Everyone had their own way, some would jump in their sleeps –the most powerful ones, because they had control over their dreams as well—, some would jump by concentrating too hard, like astral projecting –most of them did it this way—. The third type, said Seongwoo, had never been found in centuries, they would just use every method possible, and could also –the coolest thing, Sungwoon though— just think of a time period and jump, just like that, actually jumping. Actual jumpers were the coolest and fastest, sleep-jumpers were the most powerful and astral-jumpers were just… everyone.

Sungwoon had no idea what he was, except from a failure, because he was yet to purposely jump anywhen. One day, though, he was dreaming with his home, and he could swear he saw Seongwoo smile before he woke up some years later.  


 

 

 

 

> 1970s

 

 

Something in the air was different. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was when he opened his eyes in the dark. He rolled in bed, and went to reach for the button to turn on the lights, except there was nothing there. Instead, he rolled off the bed, it being much smaller than what he was used to. The air was denser, too, rich with all kinds of smells and not all of them pleasant.

And he knew what he had accomplished, finally. He almost screamed when the awareness shook his whole body. Because he was no longer in 1953, so he had to be back in 2018. Excitedly, he rushed out of his room, to find out he wasn’t in his room at all. Instead, he was in an unknown hallway. It was tiny, like the room he had just come out of, the green –of all colours— door behind him. The walls weren’t painted per se, rather a patterned paper covered them fully, mysterious shapes all over them, with eccentric colours, too bright and nonsensical for Sungwoon’s taste, especially for one that had just woken up. Said corridor had one too many doors in it, in asserted tonalities to “match” the overall aesthetic and it was headache inducing.

From inside them, many voices could be heard, shouting too high for a morning. He could distinguish a laugh that rose above everything else, high-pitched and shrilling, as well as a richer deeper one that tingled his ears the good way.

Curious, he knocked on the door, putting on his best annoyed face, thinking that faking irritation because of the noise was his best move. As soon as it opened, he was greeted by a boy slightly taller than him, with plump lips and a smug in his face that seemed to be constantly there, his cheeks were high and puffy, a strange will to poke that like that of grandmas forming in Sungwoon. The boy’s eyes were puppy-like, big and bright, slightly turned downwards, which made the brunet instantly change his face expression and drop the excuse he had planned.

It didn’t matter, because the boy smiled and invited him inside.

“You are like twelve hours late, man!”

The other said, laughing –the shrilling sound from before rightfully matched to its owner— while patting his shoulder, pushing him inside before closing the door with his right foot. Inside the cubicle, a whole mess that would make Minhyun both cry and scream.

The conjuring of his best friend’s name sparking something in his mind, a weird sense of familiarity with the high-pitched laugh individual. When someone else, probably the one with the rich beautiful laugh, came out of a room and called the other Jaehwan, Sungwoon made a mental note to ask Seongwoo about various existences individuals instead of freaking out because Minhyun’s boyfriend-to-be was in front of him in the 70s, if the overall aesthetic was anything to go by (not to mention the numerous calendars in the room).

It was easy to let it pass, though, when the most gorgeous man ever appeared before his eyes. Wide shoulders that made Sungwoon even tinier, long muscular legs and the cutest face ever. Because there was no other way to describe that face. The overall feeling being that of an oversized puppy, with hopeful eyes that analysed the scene constantly and lit up when they stopped in the brunet. Sungwoon couldn’t quite tell what that was, because it looked like recognition and he had never seen the other in his whole life, he would remember at least the tiny mole under one of his eyes, or the rounded tip of his nose.

Truth be told, he had been recognised when he first arrived in the 50s, but it had all been fake, Seongwoo had explained. For the jumpers to live long, the time police had taken it upon them to insert them in society, thus creating a life from them in every era they would ever visit. These lives, though, were varied and not ever so beautiful, the man having advised him to prepare for what was to come, because it wasn’t always easy. Anyway, all of this had meant that –in Sungwoon’s case--- Seongwoo would somehow create fake memories of Sungwoon in the people he would interact with closely, usually a family and some close friends, or a student life, and in truth it depended of the era he would jump to.

That meant, Sungwoon had had people talk to him as if they knew him, like Jaehwan just did, but never shiny eyes that longed to speak to him and it was both scary and beautiful. Most of all, it was out of his understanding, but it shook his heart nonetheless.

“Sungwoon.”

The tall blond-haired man said, exhaling the breath he had been holding since Sungwoon’s tiny frame appeared on the doorstep. Sungwoon, of course, took note of this, unable to make sense of the man’s reactions in his head. With a heavy heart, he did nothing but laugh and answer to Jaehwan, trying to ignore the way the other had pronounced his name and was slowly approaching him.

It was too early to deal with more unknowns. Noticing how Sungwoon blatantly ignored his call, the blond just sat at the sofa and waited for Jaehwan to bring the both of them there.

“We told you to come by last night, not the next morning.” Jaehwan amusedly stated. “But hey, you made it!”

Sungwoon nodded, shyly, not uttering a word.

“Hey, man, I’m not mocking you, I’m glad you came although late. I know it’s winter semester and you’re drowning in exams.”

The other said, throwing an arm through his shoulders in a brotherly way under the attentive look of the wide shouldered man in the sofa. Sungwoon leered again, reassuringly this time, arguing that he was okay, no harm made, just a little tired. After that, the other boy nodded and laid back.

“Daniel,” Sungwoon supposed that was the name of the one that seemed to know him. “do we have enough beer for the three of us?”

Daniel sneered at Jaehwan weirdly, and seemed to be thinking hard, hopefully about the beers. Maybe nine in the morning wasn’t a very appropriate time to drink beer, but hey, he had just found out not only that he had mistravelled, but also that he was going through yet another finals period.  
In the end, Daniel stood up, and Sungwoon followed, the reasoning behind his legs trailing after the blond man completely lost to him.

“Sungwoon?” The other asked, dropping the three cans of beer on the bright yellow table on the kitchen. “Is something wrong?”

He took a deep breath, a hundred questions playing in his head and wanting to jump out of his mouth, all of them at once.

“Do you know me?”

The words tasted bittersweet, as if he shouldn’t be asking that, and reckless, like he was overruling everything Seongwoo taught him, but he was too curious, too invested. An unreadable expression crossed the taller’s face, but it spoke of sadness, nonetheless, and Sungwoon knew he had been the cause behind him.

“Apparently not yet.”

The other said, quickly changing into a charming smile, taking the beers and leaving a stunted Sungwoon behind to close the orange door of the mini fridge. Once again, he –tried— to trail after the other, arriving at the living room to a questioning Jaehwan who complained about waiting for the two of them for too long and being thirsty, which, honestly, sounded like Minhyun’s Jaehwan and it was so weird yet familiar at the same time he couldn’t help but feel comfortable, despite the uneasiness Daniel’s words (and overall presence and reactions) had given him.

Daniel handed him a beer, his attitude towards him having taken a 180 degree turn all of a sudden.

 

The change made no sense, the whole abruptness of it. One second before the confusing kitchen conversation, Daniel had been expectant, like the brunet was supposed to do something he obviously didn’t do. After it, the _longing_ (for the lack of a better word) was completely gone, replaced by the weird familiarity people from the 50s treated him with… and Sungwoon was confused. He was confused because he didn’t know much, but Daniel seemed out of place. Because he still had no idea how the whole paraphernalia worked, and he hated not knowing. And he despised that even if he was so puzzled about it all, he felt comfortable, in a way.

With a loud sigh, he took the beer in his hands, chugging it down quickly. The slight bitterness of it burning in his throat, was 70s beer stronger? A noise came out of his mouth unintentionally, causing a deep laugh in the blond which even shook the sofa they were seated in. Music hummed softly from one of the speakers in the room, the other probably broken some time ago and never repaired, only audible in the silence that took over.

“So, what were you doing last night?”

Jaehwan answered, breaking the lowness of the ambience. His voice was on the high-pitched side, much like Sungwoon’s, but it had a richness to it the brunet couldn’t quite explain.  2018 Jaehwan sang, maybe this one did, too, he thought.

Last night he had been training with Seongwoo in the 50s, he thought. Nonetheless, he said he had been studying, which wasn’t entirely a lie. From his side, Daniel scoffed, as if he knew _something_ , Sungwoon had no idea what. The blond was definitely getting on his nerves more and more as the seconds passed.

After that, not intending to keep the conversation flowing, the room fell silent again.

The scene seemed straight out of “That 70s Show” and Sungwoon was… astounded that his life had really come to that. If some days prior he had had a mental breakdown because of how much he hadn’t wanted this gift, it was then, while he relished on the scene in front of his eyes that he realised just how lucky he was.

With that mindset, he stood up, surprising the other two. A smile creeped into his face, then, a sip of his beer, finishing it off and putting it on the table, soundly.

“I’m going out, do you guys want to come?”

It was almost automatic how the both of them chugged their drinks in one go and nodded, big grins on their faces and ready to hit the streets.

Since he didn’t know the future (present, if his initial life was the viewpoint) Jaehwan that much, he had no idea how prone to skinship and contact he was, nor for how long could the younger run his mouth non-stop. The boy with the prominent cheeks liked to chat, and he would chat about everything and more, no matter if Sungwoon didn’t follow the conversation or Daniel’s only add were laughs. It was nice though, he was endearing and even if his mouth never shut once, he still somehow gave space for others to talk as well. If Minhyun’s Jaehwan was anything like that one, he would pat his best friend on the back to wish him luck and congratulate him simultaneously.

Daniel, on the other hand, didn’t talk much. Since they left the apartment, beers forgotten on the messy table, the whole place a little dishevelled (probably its natural state, he hadn’t said a word. Sure, he was somehow active in their talk, what with constant laugh and onomatopoeias. Just… not actual words, which, was probably not typical Daniel behaviour, considering the weird looks Jaehwan was throwing in his direction.

“Daniel,” Jaehwan said, pushing Sungwoon out of the way to stand between him and the blond. “what is it with you today? Do you have a crush on the gnome here? “

Sungwoon was quick to elbow Jaehwan for that _insult_. All that time travel to remain being called tiny, seemed pretty unfair! He didn’t elbow Daniel as well because he was too far away.

“What if I do?”

The blond had said, confidently. He exuded _flirtiness_ , and Sungwoon had wanted to scream because maybe it was something they (well, the memory of Sungwoon which had been created for them) did, that friendly banter or whatever but as for him he was being hit on and he was definitely not used to it. Back in the present, it was always Minhyun who got hit on. And so, he was panicking inside, but took it like a champ anyway.

If things like that were going to happen in every era, he was not ready for it.

Luckily, Jaehwan’s laugh answered Daniel before he had to force himself to do so. It was so incredibly loud and obnoxious that made Sungwoon wonder how a human being could produce such a sound (purposely ignoring that his, too, was high-pitched and deafening).

Either way, the air felt a little heavier than before, as if Daniel had taken Jaehwan’s joke more serious than the other had intended. Sungwoon couldn’t shake off the uneasiness the blond caused in him, he still tried his best to push it aside, anyway.

Despite the disturbance of the whole atmosphere, they spent Sungwoon’s first day in the 70s easily, three boys roaming the streets. They were so foreign, yet familiar. The scenery in front of his eyes felt like a picture, minus the stillness. Even if the world was happening before his eyes, everything resembled an image lost in time.

Standing in the middle of the road while the sunrays coloured them in hues of rosy, he looked around and made sure to save that exact moment in his heart forever.

Shortly after, they went back to their apartment building. Apparently, Sungwoon had been a mean friend and insisted on having a room to himself from the beginning, arguing that it was him who found the building after all, which left the other two to room together. Of course, it had been Jaehwan on his rambles who had let him know, while Daniel remained eerily silent, as if there was something which didn’t make sense.

Sungwoon brushed it off, he didn’t actually know Daniel anyway, he could be that weird every day for all he knew. Making their way up the stairs, the trio chatted animatedly about different topics, with Sungwoon trying not to slip information about the future, it being _especially_ _difficult_ as their conversation reached Avengers level.  

There were some things Sungwoon was passionate about: music and Marvel. Maybe his family and friends as well, but definitely music and Marvel. So, when they started to ramble about 70s era Marvel, he had to draw a line because if it was him getting spoiled he would go on a killing spree, not pretty. Luckily, they reached their floor before it came to that.

“See you tomorrow? Or you’ll go into hiding again?”

Said Jaehwan, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, smile big on his face. Daniel stood behind him, scratching his head, eyes looking down, almost avoiding Sungwoon’s. The brunet sighed, leaning on the doorstep.

“Do I really have to study that much?”

Sungwoon answered, fake desperation present in his voice as well as in his face. In the 50s he had known he had exams because he had spent some time there before, a whole month of not knowing before he was thrown into exam season. This time, he had no heads up, just woke up from a sizzling summer in a cold winter, suddenly finals again. He deserved better.

“It’s you who insists on studying so far in advance! Me and Daniel here are living our best life, you see.”

The younger’s arm found its way around Daniel’s shoulders, bringing the other out of his absent state. Sungwoon had noticed how both of his supposed 70s friends were extremely beaming. It wasn’t a bad thing, on the contrary, it resulted very nice, a stark contrast with Timoteo, to name someone. So, of course, every exchange was full of smiles and warmth, like there was a true connection there. Sungwoon would definitely seek present Jaehwan out once he was back to his life.

“I guess not studying for a day won’t kill me.”

Mechanically, his hands reached for his pocket, where keys were supposed to be. Surprisingly, they were there, cold and metallic against his fingers. He pulled them out, sliding them into the lock.

“But I can’t promise anything.”

He said, an enigmatic smirk in his lips as he turned the key and opened the door. The other two turned around, shaking their heads, and entered the apartment two doors down the hall. Sungwoon slid inside his and closed the door behind him.

Before, he had no time to _observe_ the place and bask in its seventitie. It was just so prototypical, with its walls full of posters and assorted prints, Dashes of every colour could be found, whether it was the furniture or the plates. It was not big, though it was probably as big as a student could afford and well, it could always be worse. If it was out of luck, he had had a fairly good one in three out of three eras he had set foot in.

The pistachio green sofa welcomed him with open arms and puffy cushions. If he had beer in his apartment –and he probably did, because Seongwoo had set his lives to be as believable as they came—, he was not going to stand up to look for it. For now, he would be contented laying on the couch doing nothing but stare at the roof in silence.

He wondered if time passed in his house while he was stuck there, in another life. It was quite egocentric of him to believe the earth would stop in its axis just for Ha Sungwoon not to be missed, but he was special enough to travel through time, was he not? Who knew what else? (Probably Seongwoo, and just forgot to tell him).

His mind wandered to his mother, waiting for him to get dinner, and his father, not even home yet. His younger sister, playing with his old piano in the living room, pretending to perform an intricate piece. A few hours from his last moment there, they would sit at the table and discuss their days. If Sungwoon was there, he would probably tell them all about his classes, and they would pretend they knew what he was talking about. Then, his mom would reminisce her doctor days, which she still missed her senior status not having been so for long. His father would joke about it, but he himself was only half a year younger and would have to retire soon, It would be then, his sister would intervene with the craziest stories, like the one time his classmate decided it was a great idea to throw painting to the air con and everyone became a Smurf.

Sadly, he wasn’t there, and, as much as he would like to stop time, life had to be going on for them.

Did they miss him? Did they forget him when he wasn’t there? Just thinking about it created a hole in his heart. His life was in 2018, and he could not just… leave it behind with no explanation. Not that he could travel back to tell them, anyway.

He turned around, his eyes facing the old school tv. There didn’t seem to be a remote anywhere, so he just left if off, the grey screen having a somehow calming effect in his body the more he stared blankly at it.

Was he ever going to feel comfortable with his abilities? Was the question running around his head the most, swallowing him whenever he had time to just stop and _think_. Seongwoo had done his best to explain, but it was still not enough, not nearly. What would happen to the lives he touched? What would happen to the aftermath of his presence? What happened to his actual life? How did he settle up?

How could he just keep on jumping, not growing attached to anything?

A million unknowns wearing him out, Sungwoon fell asleep on the couch.  

Saturday arrived and found Sungwoon resting where he laid last night, curled up to the point not much of him was distinguishable, just a small fluffy ball on the sofa. Through the barely closed blinds, some rays of awakening Sun found their way into the room, lighting it in various ways. The shadows of the furniture appearing as more decoration. That morning was especially hot for winter, and the brunet shifted slightly due to the warmth taking over his body. A mischievous flicker flashed in his closed eyes, the discomfort waking him up.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to the world. It was as new as the day before, that apartment still unknown which shone in a wide palette of strong paints and eccentric patterns. Just the essence of the time.

“So, I am still in the 70s. Me, Sungwoon, the time traveller.”

He exhaled, stretching his whole body. It was a little crumped up after the posture in which he had fallen asleep, doing his best to fit fully in the sofa. He wasn’t that tall, anyway, but his body was _slightly_ bigger than the lounger. So, he had retorted to uncomfortable postures and continuous shifting instead of taking the most reasonable course of action and walked to his bed (it was literally right there, the flat being on the smaller side).

A half-asleep Sungwoon yawned loudly, stretching his arms again as he made his way into the kitchen. Truth be told, he was not very confident in finding edible stuff there, something about the whole broke student life vibe told him so. Nevertheless, he had to test his luck and go through the lockers in hope of finding, at least, cereals. In the midst of doing so, a soft knock on the door got his attention.

Behind the wood, stood Daniel, puffy face and blinding smile. The blond made his way into the apartment without asking for permission (“Suit yourself”, thought Sungwoon), throwing himself on the couch where he was resting five minutes ago.

“Making breakfast? You must be more responsible than me and Jaehwan together.” He chimed from the sofa, making himself comfortable. “Care to make some for me as well? I’m starving!”

Same as the day before, there was _something_ in Daniel that was irking Sungwoon to an extreme. As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the uneasiness off, which didn’t happen with anyone else. Maybe it was the way in which the blond looked at him, like Sungwoon owed him something. He had no idea, but he just couldn’t let go. Either way, the brunet was determined to make his stay as good as possible, and enjoy that era until he decided it was time to go.

“There’s not much on my kitchen, though, I… “

thought maybe my policeman would’ve decided to nourish me, but turns out I’m a typical college guy, Sungwoon though.

“was sure I had gone grocery shopping not long ago, but turns out I didn’t.”

Answered the brunet instead, snickering. His eyes drifted from the cupboard to the figure in his living room, huge and relaxed. A sigh escaped his lips as he closed the closets and returned to the sofa, dumping himself next to Daniel, letting his head fall on the back of the couch.

“Then, should we go out? My treat.”

Offered the other, a certain playfulness painting his fruity voice. It was tempting, the way he said it so simply, and how he had shifted to have a better look at Sungwoon as he did. His arm now rested on the back of the couch, his whole body turned to the side, facing Sungwoon’s profile. An everlasting grin seemed to be plastered to his face, his bright white teeth out for the world to see, like a fountain of happiness. His eyes, on the other hand, closed almost completely because his mouth opened so widely it took up the space on his face. The brunet wondered if he could actually _see_. It was… nice, however.

Behind the enigmatic, the blond was just pure warmth.

“Of course.”

Sungwoon stuttered, before ultimately nodding and flashing a smile to try and match the one before his eyes.

So, the other of the trio nowhere to be found (fast asleep, according to Daniel), off they went. Musty cereals forgotten on the counter along with the initial bias against the blond, they closed the door. The colourful hallway greeted them with its brightness as they walked down the stairs with quick pace, almost jumping.

“I’m so hungry I could die right now.”

Daniel proclaimed, more to himself than to Sungwoon.

“Shared feeling.”

Agreed Sungwoon nonetheless, accompanying the statement with something akin to a growl.

Absentmindedly, he ran his hand through his hair over and over. The streets were lively, even if it was early in the morning. Plenty of people ran around, going on with their lives without minding everyone else, but without that rushed feeling of his present. It was nice, he thought.

The 70s were, for the lack of a better word, wilder than the 50s. Whereas the 50s seemed the image of elegance and composure, the 70s represented freedom and self-expression. Everything changed during those eras, the horror of times past left a bit behind and people letting go of restrictions. It showed, in the way everything worked, in the way people talked and interacted with each other. Also, cars were cooler, which was pleasant to look at.

All in all, the 70s were more familiar, since they were closer in time with his own, and that was good. Especially, because the proximity didn’t take away the interesting, the whole era still there for him to explore and learn from.

Undoubtedly, the best way to do it was the people, the living history.

“Where are we headed?”

He questioned out loud after a few minutes of wordlessly following Daniel’s lead. The blond moved with determination, urging Sungwoon to trail after him.

“You’ll see.”

The ever-present beam in his face turned into a mysterious smirk, almost playful. Expectant.

“Will I like it?”

The smugness in Daniel’s face sharpened, showing a level of security in himself Sungwoon found very endearing.

“I think you will love it.”

An hour later found them in the most wonderful café Sungwoon had ever seen. Admittedly, he was not one for colours, usually finding them _too much_. He stuck to monochrome, maybe three tones if he was feeling risky. To put it short, he relished on the simpler things which were sure to be a hit.

Never would he have combined bright pink with neon blue and yellow, and much less expect it to _work_ like they did in the room he was staring at.

Chairs everywhere, seemingly without an order. Tables here and there, some together, some apart. In the centre, a circle shaped bar, a single waiter inside the cubicle which was filled with glasses, drinks and sugar among other things.

The whole place should’ve been chaotic… instead, it was entrancing.

The brunet’s eyes lit up, taking in everything around. “Amazing.”

A rich laugh came from his side, Daniel’s whole body moving along. His eyes were half closed, and his right hand hovered over his mouth. The brunet took his eyes off the other, and confidently seated himself on a round red and brown table.

“Let me tell you, they make crazy good strawberry cereals.”

The taller one stated, deadpanned. A cackled followed suit, and all the discomfort faded away.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

It was Daniel who stood up, long legs approaching the counter. Dark green trousers hugged his figure, a wide brown belt holding the up in contrast with a patterned red turtleneck sweater, the complementary green jacket forgotten on the chair.

Despite the eccentrics of the fit, it hugged the taller’s body tightly. Sturdy longs legs and wide shoulders emphasized to the maximum, and Sungwoon found himself ogling unwillingly.

There was also the way he carried himself with his back straightened, and chin up. His gaze always front, as if there was not a thing in the world that could bring him down. His steps were big and strong, stepping with all the strength possible. His whole aura seemed to scream “I am here”.

Sungwoon liked it.

“I hope you like what I ordered, I decided that one bowl of cereal wouldn’t be enough, so I mixed and matched.”

The tips of his lips turned upwards. He slipped himself into the leather seat, smoothly. Now, Daniel was right in front of Sungwoon, though his eyes had to look up to meet those of the blond. Because Daniel was tall, much more so than Sungwoon, what made him feel somehow intimidated.

“I trust you, I guess.” He conceded without much security in his voice, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Oi!” Exclaimed the other, hitting him jokingly in the arm. “I have an awfully good taste, mind you.”

Sungwoon’s answer was a raised eyebrow and a shrug, causing Daniel to _roar_. It honestly wasn’t that funny, but if there was something that seemed easy to do, was cause Daniel’s laugh.

On the two days he had met him, that was what the blond enjoyed the most, a serious expression never present. That created an amicable aura whenever he was around, once Sungwoon managed to let go of the initial uneasiness.

The information he had gathered about Daniel so far was this: he was nice and kind, of easy laughter; he was confident in himself, he knew he was attractive and he took advantage of that; and lastly, that he was not yet sure of why, but Daniel treated him differently.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You punk…” Daniel murmured under his breath, loud enough for Sungwoon to listen,

“You don’t treat the elderly like that!” Truth be told, he had no idea if Daniel was younger, but he was ready to take a chance.

“If only you knew!”

Sungwoon had no time to pay attention to the confusing commentary before a waitress (who he had no idea where she came from) appeared and laid two bowls of cereals, one serving of chocolate crepes and one tomato toast on the table. The smell filled their noses instantly, a pleasant mixture of sweet and tasty. Credit where credit’s due, Daniel was good at ordering, the table set before his eyes being the most appetizing he had ever seen.

The crepes were shiny and still steamy, the hot chocolate drowning them in syrupiness. On the side of the plate was also a quickly melting vanilla ice cream, almost the same beige as the soft paste. On the other plate, toasts, just as he liked them, grilled to their exact point, with garlic and tomato on top of them. Lastly, the two bowls of cereal, with scalding milk and mueslis of assorted colours and flavours. He could distinguish the hot pink of strawberries, the green kiwi and soft rosy bubble-gum.

With no regard for him. Daniel dipped his metallic spoon on the bowl that rested closer to Sungwoon, splashing some milk on his face.

“Sorry,” he added clumsily, his mouth full of cereal, making more difficult his attempts at a proper communication. “yours are fruity, and mine are chocolatey.”

Now, it was Sungwoon who threw his short arm across the table, barely reaching the bowl under Daniel’s head and inserting his own spoon. Liquid dropping everywhere as he put the dollop in his widely open mouth.

“Hm,” he could barely retort. “I prefer chocolatey.”

The blond one scoffed, shaking his head before interchanging their cereals, Sungwoon stopping him when both their foods were right in the middle.

“Yah, I want to try the fruity too!”

“You’re impossible, Ha Sungwoon.”

The brunet lifted his eyes which were fixated on the food, his mouth akin to pouting. Daniel was already staring at him, curiosity burning behind his brown irises when they locked gazes. Red flushed to both their cheeks, painting their faces intensely, but none of them looked away, an unspoken duel right there.

In the end, it was Daniel who bashfully took them off, a slight giggle.

“You bet.”

The morning continued like that, between sweet tastes and non-stop conversation.

“So,” Sungwoon began, sipping on a strawberry milkshake they ordered to wash down the food. “what do you have planned for today? Do you usually drop by my apartment on a fine Saturday morning and force me awake?”

Daniel chuckled.

“Well, I meant to head back home and do nothing?” answered the blond, scratching the back of his head. “Shouldn’t you know already, huh?”

It was at that moment he knew, he had messed up.

“U-Uh, I meant” he stuttered, nervousness taking over his body. “if you think that’s a clever idea! If you’re conscious of what you’re doing! I’m… not a morning person!”

Lie, but whatever, Daniel didn’t know him at all, anyway.

“Oh, aren’t you? I must know another Sungwoon, then.”

He stated nonchalantly, turning to face the window. On the streets, the Sun was up in the sky, the clock striking twelve (already?). They shone like gold, a glow unnatural for a frosty winter, composing a stark contrast with the pieces of clothing the passers-by sported. Inside the café, the same gilded light tinted the walls and furniture, and Daniel’s face as well. The soft bridge of his nose, and the tiny mole under his right eye.

Sungwoon unglued his eyes from the other, having his breath taken was not on today’s to-do list.

“Or you mustn’t know me so well… But you can keep on waking me up! For the sake of a healthy sleeping schedule.”

“Don’t worry, I will. But don’t expect me to pay for a huge breakfast every Saturday, you should keep your cupboards stacked and fridge full, you know, no matter how tiny you’re still a human who need nourishment.”

He had the smack on the shoulder coming.

After a while, they left the place and headed for the building. Daniel had paid for breakfast, and Sungwoon insisted he would pay for the next one –if there was one, although he didn’t add that—. They roamed the streets, Daniel rambling about various topics, like how much he disliked the usage of cars, his smoking habit he was trying to quit because of Jaehwan’s continuous nagging or his plans to dye his hair back to black.

Turned out, Daniel, too, was a talking machine that never ran out. It must’ve been impossible for someone to know _so much_ about _everything_ , but Daniel knew at least the basic of every little thing, from architecture (“See, this is known as brutalist architecture, and it began in the 50s… It’s so cool and innovative.” Sungwoon just nodded along.), to politics (“You know? We’re such a revolutionary society! Women are finally allowed into power!” the brunet had nodded, grinning down to his feet. The other had some good views.) passing through just about everything. Wise beyond his years, Sungwoon would call him, but none less the excited.

On the whole way home, Sungwoon couldn’t miss the way Daniel’s eyes seemed to light every time he went on about something he was passionate about.

Before setting foot into the building, he had learned more about Daniel in a morning than about his 50s friend group in months.

Daniel liked music and dancing the most, but he was focusing his energy on something more _functional_ like architecture. He was an only child, and had been living with Jaehwan for some years now. They were childhood friends, and never separated, which was why they had such a good relationship. The duo had met Sungwoon in college, because architecture and economics (apparently, Sungwoon’s major) were near, and the diner where Jaehwan had afternoon shifts was right beside them. They quickly became friends and, after listening to their complaints about overpricing, Sungwoon had let them know about their actual building and that’s how they came to live together, the three of them.

Daniel also harboured an undying love for cats, but wasn’t taking care of one at the moment, too busy with college and having a tiny cubicle to live (“If only I had won at rock, paper, scissors!” “I guess I was the lucky one.” Daniel smiled sweetly. “Yeah, you could say so.”). He also said he was contented with the live he was leading in the year 1977, which sounded odd, but Sungwoon didn’t pay attention to it, too lost in Daniel’s gruff voice.

“If it isn’t my two so-called best friends who left me here to die of starvation!”

Jaehwan’s voice screamed from the top of the stairs when they were up two flights of them. The blond had pointed out Jaehwan’s like for theatricals, and he recalled Minhyun mentioning it once or twice (or a million times) as well, but had never experienced it first-hand. Seeing the man in his pyjamas and dishevelled hair, puffy face but trying to put on his best resentful expression while shouting at them, he understood what they meant. It was also terribly funny, and not even the perpetrator himself could contain the laugh, his mouth distorting while trying to hide his amusement.

“Oh, great Jaehwan, forgive me for feeding out pocket-sized baby! Next time I’ll wake you up!”

The man scoffed, his mien shifting in a second.

“At what time would that happen?”

They had already arrived at their floor, and Daniel slid his arm around Jaehwan’s shoulder, something he did usually. The pair seemed to be, indeed, very close as well as very comfortable with physical contact between them.

“Does 9 a.m sound acceptable to you?”

Of course, his eyes almost jumping out of their bags was enough of an answer.

 

Objectively, Sungwoon should’ve left hours ago, but time passed and he still was curled up in Daniel’s sofa well past lunch time. They had agreed to buy two pizzas and take them to the apartment, then decided through a fair method (rock, paper, scissors) who would go and buy them, ultimately leaving the brunet in Daniel and Jaehwan’s shared flat with a threat to hunt him down if he dared leave.

So, he hadn’t, waiting for them and the food and staying to eat it as well. He had paid Jaehwan for both his and Daniel’s due, and then gulped down the two pizzas bite after bite. Immediately after, he couldn’t even move, much less study. The logical thinking was to stay there and sleep a little, which was exactly what he did, the three of them taking a nap in the couch.

Then, Jaehwan had turned on the TV (such a bad quality hurt Sungwoon’s eyes, but at least it wasn’t entirely in black and white) and they were running an episode of Doctor Who. Sungwoon, who loved modern Doctor Who but had never watch the classic, couldn’t let that opportunity go by, so he remained glued to the TV and Jaehwan’s observations, Daniel fast asleep on his shoulder.

Suddenly, it was nine in the afternoon, which meant dinner time, and he wasn’t going to study after having just eaten.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

A still half-asleep Daniel questioned, lifting his head from Sungwoon’s shoulder. His bright red sweater slightly stained.

“Oh, sorry about that, I bet I was heavy.”

Jaehwan attentively observed the whole scene from behind the kitchen, a knowing grin on his face.

“You can sleep here too, Daniel is big, but can’t yet dill a whole king-sized bed.”

He could feel the tip of his ears turning red from the embarrassment. The blond one shot the other a killing look, shushing him with his eyes. Jaehwan just jeered and dropped it.

“Your apartment is next door, anyway.”

He shrugged, putting out all kinds of utensils for cooking. Then, he announced he was making pasta, not waiting for complaints before getting everything ready.

Despite his image, Jaehwan was not useless in the kitchen, and he was definitely better than Daniel who had, according to him, calcined broccoli that wasn’t even being cooked. Sungwoon had just been too lazy to try, but his hands were not too cooperative on a daily basis, and he feared for his life if he ever were to be in contact with those huge knives.

While their friend cooked, Sungwoon and Daniel, still next to each other on the couch, let their tongues run free, jumping from one topic to another. Sometimes, the other butted in from the kitchen, basically shouting at them.

“My mom… she’s the kindest human I’ve ever met.”

The brunet stated seriously. The other was looking at him intently in the sudden silence of the room. Sungwoon spoke with nostalgia in his voice, and a sudden urge to get out of there ( _then_ ). The blond must’ve felt it, because his arms found a way to Sungwoon’s body, bringing him closer with his right arm, embracing him.

“I can barely remember mine.”

Daniel mumbled. His eyes had a pinch of sadness, but it seemed to be old, like the fact of his mother not being there was something he had accepted long ago. Maybe it was, Sungwoon was not going to pry. Instead, he would give silent consolation as well, a timid smile that seemed to be saying ‘It’s okay’ present on his lips.

“Hey! Carbonara is ready, guys!”

Screamed the remaining of the trio, as if on cue.

Half an hour later, their stomachs were full and it was time to head back. Except he didn’t, falling asleep on a couch for the second day in a row.

When morning came, he was tucked in a huge bed. The green sheets covered his body, a yellow circle-patterned blanket made a ball at his feet. The blinds were closed, but still the Sun managed to filter through them enough for him to make out the basics of the room.

It was polished, nothing like the one back in his dorm. The walls were void of patterns, a single colour (dark red, or maybe it was just the lack of proper lightning) painting them. The one behind the bed, though, was filled with posters of various bands. On the nightstand, a lava lantern, as well as many seemingly forgotten books and magazines.

He reached for the lantern, clicking everywhere until he managed to turn it on, its pinkish glow allowing his eyes to relax a bit. Now, he could observe that it wasn’t as neat as it might’ve seemed, clothes spread across the room. Judging from the green pants that laid on a chair, he was sleeping in Daniel’s bed, as Jaehwan had suggested the night before.

The owner of the bed wasn’t there, but he could listen to both Daniel’s and Jaehwan’s voices loud in the living room. Barely even awake, he walked out of the bed, dragging his feet across the floor.

Light hit him in the face when he cracked the door open, stealing a hiss from him. Mirroring what a vampire just reached by the burning light would do, he closed himself inside the room automatically. The sound of the other two shrieking was not stopped by the paper-thin walls.

After mentally preparing himself for the blinding brightness, he carefully opened the door, closing his eyes.

“Good morning, count Dracula.”

The voice sounded far and from the right, so Sungwoon turned his head in that direction and growled.

“Want a cup of warm blood?”

Teasingly asked another, this time behind him. Since he still had his eyes shut, he missed the way Daniel approached him, a smirk on his face. That was, until the blond poked at his side, causing his body to shiver, he had always been sensitive to tickles.

“Ah! My poor pupils! They’re burning!”

Sungwoon joked, covering his face with his hands and pretending to _melt_. Even kneeling on the floor, both Daniel and Jaehwan enjoying the theatrics.

“Oh,” the blond exclaimed, offering his hand to the brunet who was still kneeling. “I moved you to my bed because I woke up extra early today and couldn’t have you taking up the couch, okay? Hope you didn’t mind.”

A shy mien all over him, like never before. Sungwoon nodded, flashing the other a smile.

“It was…very comfortable, thank you. And sorry, I must’ve been very heavy to carry.”

“Actually, light as feather. It was nothing.”

And they both nodded, the atmosphere suddenly heavier, until Jaehwan approached them. The other caught them in his arms, padding their shoulders with a grin on his face.

“I, my friends, slept comfortably on my bed. And now, let’s do something other than stand in the middle of the living room.”

He requested before pushing them both on the couch with a force which neither of them expected him to have and sent them laughing.

“Oh wow, chill down ‘The Rock’ Dwayne!”

Sungwoon exclaimed, cackling as he actually settled on the sofa.

“Who?”

Asked the other two in unison.

“Fuck”, thought Sungwoon immediately.

 

“A… TV character! It’s from an old show my mum used to tell me about! You see, he’s very strong and muscular, sometimes that’s used in a comedic way. So, yeah, that.”

The smallest explained, nodding along nervously throughout the whole explanation. He needed to stop making pop references where they weren’t due, but his brain couldn’t help but _fuck up_ sometimes, apparently.

The duo didn’t mind it, anyway, shrugging after listening to him, turning their attention to the still off television in front of them. Daniel urged Jaehwan to turn it on, alleging that he needed it as background music (“Well, it’s not technically music, Daniel. You can just turn on the jukebox you so badly insisted in buying, though!”).

Of course, they didn’t pay any attention to it at all, merely a clatter filling in the few silences. It was easy to let his mouth run with those two, a strong sense of closeness everywhere. Despite being avid talkers, they seemed to be good listeners as well, paying the outmost attention to whatever he had to say.

As someone who required constant attention, he was contented. That didn’t mean Sungwoon didn’t do the listening as well, it being just as interesting as letting himself ramble. He liked the way Jaehwan’s mind just seemed to link things different, the smallest connection sparking something in him that made him shift from topic to topic while still maintaining some kind of coherence. Daniel, on the other hand, just expressed whatever occupied his mind on the current moment, taking them on a journey through his mental map.

It went like this: Jaehwan would start going on about something random, like how ugly was the green of the walls, then, Sungwoon would join in, with his own opinion, lastly, Daniel would completely divert from the point, randomly expressing how funny Jaehwan’s face looked when he did something embarrassing. And like that, over and over.

The casualness of it all felt too real, too easy… and Sungwoon felt scared.

Scared of spending more time there, because in just three days, he had made a connection, and he didn’t want any sort of those. In the end, he was going back to 2018, it didn’t matter the stops along the way, the destination would remain the same and what he would want the least was to miss something he chose not to have.

So, after some hours, when he finally decided to leave the boys’ apartment, he closed his eyes, and left the 70s as well.

 

 

 

 

> Victorian Era.

 

 

A humid smell filled his nostrils, dampening his senses as well. He couldn’t find his footing, tripping with his own feet and nearly falling to the ground. The world looked blurry and dark, a grey veil hovering over the city like a shadow.

Even like that, the moon shone brightly behind the murky clouds, making the scene all that more mysterious. If he had had to describe the image with a word, said word would be eerie.

The night was past entered. The streets deserted save a few creatures of the night, hiding in the shadows created by the corners, waiting to make a living however they could. Sungwoon had never been _then_ ¸ but he had read the stories, and the world in front of his eyes was enough to make him believe in horrors.

He wasn’t afraid of the dark, nor fantasy creations. He was afraid of everything else.

In silence, he hoped Seongwoo had been mindful enough to leave something behind for him to find shelter.

The coldness of the atmosphere was making its way to Sungwoon’s body, until even his bones were shaking. He threw his arms around his body, in an attempt to guard himself from the iciness. It did nothing.

He was only covered with a thin camisole, void of the usual woollen jacket, and pants. The pants were luckily a little more protective than the sheer cloth he wore on his chest. Ruined gloves wrapped his hands just barely, the tip of his fingers threatening to break them apart at the slightest move.

That must’ve been what Seongwoo meant as unlucky lives.

He closed his eyes, ready to jump wherever the time flew him. But then, a hand tightened around his arm, pulling him closer into the warmth of a hug. Sungwoon’s first instinct was to fight, pushing the person’s chest with his hands, to no avail.

“Sungwoon, it’s me, it’s me, Daniel.”

What?

“Come, I’ll take you home.”

Holding him in his arms was, indeed, Daniel. This time around, he sported slid back black hair. It was a weird look, once used to the dishevelled blond he had seen not even hours ago. In the 70s. Because that’s when he met Daniel, in the late 70s.

But there he was, holding him in the late 1800s. It made no sense, but he even knew his name. Maybe Daniel was another traveller? If so, did they travel in the same order? Would they keep meeting like that? Sungwoon was dying to ask the other, but the burning questions mattered less than his freezing body.

Strong arms carried him across the streets, bidding the dark and ghostly goodbye.

It was snowing, the white flakes transforming the top of his head into a frosty bed while they rushed along the boulevards, Thankfully, Daniel’s manor wasn’t far away, the vulgar-looking abodes giving way to more luxurious, bigger ones.

The brunet guessed they had stepped into the rich district of the town, with its tall buildings and lambent streetlights. The moon seemed to shy away the dark clouds in that part of the metropolis. Nothing hiding in the shadows, no danger lurking around the corner.

Their path culminated in front of a boxed building with a high tower. The walls were painted in burgundy, with beige lines and a handful of caramel framed windows. Looking up, navy blue arched ceilings that reflected the moonlight. Around the tower’s top, these ceilings appeared as well, its continuity broken by a tiny red window.

The door opened at Daniel’s mere touch, the dark green wood unlocking to reveal an opulent interior. The walls appeared _busy_ , not a single blank spot in them. Paintings, golden structures, animal heads. The colour behind it all was close to orange, but not quite, and wood was present all around. Under their feet, a patterned carpet in gold and maroon.

The taller guided them inside a dark room, with long, thick velvet curtains. It seemed to be the biggest stance in the house, probably the living room. In it, a fireplace without fire.

However, it mustn’t had been out for long, the scent of cinder still hanging in the air and rivalling with that of musk and old books coming from Daniel’s clothes. The other wore finer clothing, of more expensive materials, too.

The bigger man sat Sungwoon on a sofa right in front of the fireplace. It was silky, downy under his touch. In the dimly lit stance, he couldn’t quite make out the colour of it, only that it was murky, like the overall aesthetic of the place. He was positive he had watched at least three or four horror movies set in houses like that one.

He didn’t recall those many flies on the movies, though, nor someone as warm as Daniel.

The other sat down at his side once he was done lighting the fire, now the scent of burning impregnating his camisole.

The first thing Sungwoon noticed once the coldness seeped out from his body, was the fact that Daniel was not _close_. Their bodies as apart as they could in the tiny couch, the other even minding not invading his space as he shifted positions.

The more time it passed, the more he noticed a change in demeanour.

That time, Daniel hadn’t smiled not even once, keeping himself serious, quiet and composed.  

“What are you doing here? It’s been a long time.”

Has it? Thought Sungwoon. For him, it had been maybe hours since he was sitting on Daniel’s apartment, an apartment the diametral opposite from the house he was sitting in.

“I was bored.”

The other cackled, his hand reaching for Sungwoon’s shoulder but quickly retreating. Then, he shook his head and looked down.

“And you decided to jump _here_ of all times? I still have much to live but so far this is not being my ideal time. Everything is too _restrictive_. I feel like I can’t breathe in peace! It’s not the worst because the world is so much modern than before, but… What if I told you this rivals with the so-called Dark Ages?”

Sungwoon’s mind was spinning right at that second, trying to make sense of all that new information. Daniel had just spoke as if it was the most common happening in the world. As if Sungwoon was also supposed to know all about it.

So far, he had retrieved two facts: one, Daniel had lived longer than the usual human (and, given that he met him many years in the future, would live even longer); and two, Sungwoon was in on that, for some reason.

Which led him to the conclusion that Daniel did, indeed, recognise him back in the late 1970s. Sungwoon was never imagining that spark of recognition behind the other’s eyes, he just didn’t know _when_ nor _how_ they met.

Of course, considering he could travel through time, some disorder in his life was to be expected. Time was a line, no deviations, but Sungwoon didn’t quite follow it. Sungwoon’s beginning was in the future from when he was right then, and he could probably travel to the future if he so desired (or maybe not, because he hadn’t quite mastered his gift _yet_ ).

The matter was that maybe, from a linear viewpoint, Sungwoon and Daniel had already met. Maybe they had met many times. Maybe they knew each other perfectly, a bond stronger than life. But none of that had happened for the Sungwoon he was then… and it was terrifying.

Those ideas hadn’t crossed his mind not even once. The repercussions travelling would have besides those Seongwoo had told him. The other had advised him again changing the future in a worldly approach but forgot to mention the ways it would affect him _personally_. Maybe he just lacked consideration, but it had been a mistake not considering how it would mentally afflict him to live a life out of order.

Would he keep meeting people without knowing when in their lives he stood? What if he came back to before he left and accidentally let his family know of something he wasn’t supposed to? Or, he acted differently than he should?

The more he knew about his power, the less he understood.

“Is something wrong?”

Daniel’s voice, deep and concerned, interrupted his train of thought. Sungwoon had let his eyes wander to his worn-out shoes, an absent expression on his face.

“Huh?” He muttered, switching to look at the other. “It’s just… How long have we known each other?”

The question very visibly took the other by surprise. His eyes closed for a second before answering. He was taking his time, pondering on what to say.

“Over a thousand years, I would say.”

Sungwoon took a deep breath.

“But never for too long.” Daniel continued. “You leave quickly, always in a rush to reach a destination you never quite tell me.”

The brunet wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep on listening. Daniel was laying his future in front of his eyes, almost forcing him to follow a plan. Wouldn’t he be obliged to carry out whatever the other man said since technically it had already happened?

He didn’t want to be bind like that, but didn’t stop the other from resuming.

Daniel didn’t spoil anything, anyway.

“I always wish your destination is me.”

He expressed, a sad quality in his voice that hung itself from Sungwoon’s heart. Daniel’s eyes spoke louder than words, conveying more than a hundred stories. Behind them, the chronicles of the days still to come.

“So far, you still have some _when_ to go. Maybe it’s another me you’re visiting.” A soft chuckle came from his mouth.  His eyes, though, were still gloomy. “I still can’t understand how _you_ work, no matter how hard I-we’ve tried.”

The words ‘another me’ replayed in Sungwoon’s head. They successfully expressed how he felt right then as Daniel poured his feelings out.

From what he had gathered, he would love Daniel. He would love him passionately and for long… but he didn’t. So, it wasn’t right that it was _him_ who listened to the other man’s heart when there would come a time when his heart would want to scream words of love as well.

Because it was obvious that that’s what those were, even if the word itself hadn’t been dropped once.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

How could he leave him aching? Even if just that moment, wasn’t a lie better?

A while after, the fire died.

“Sungwoon, may I get you sleeping clothes? These” Daniel said, signalling to the old-looking pieces he was wearing. “don’t seem appropriate nor comfortable, and I have plenty of clothing. They won’t be properly fitting, I suppose, but it’s what I can offer.”

He simpered. His right hand reached for Sungwoon’s shoulder, and pressed on it as if to help him stand up. The brunet nodded and followed him after rising from the comfortable sofa, eyes locked to the ground as he walked.

The atmosphere was heavy for Sungwoon. He was someone who constantly needed human interaction, but he didn’t know how to make it happen with Daniel right that moment. What was the correct way to go? Because there was a history between them which he had no idea of yet, he felt a distance greater than that of the eras.

The house was big. Therefore, the walk to the rooms was relatively long. They had to take the stairs, whose walls were also filled with portraits and paintings, as were the rooms. Looking at the decoration, he felt confided, as if there was no room to breathe between everything attacking his senses. He hoped the bedrooms weren’t as overwhelming.

Sungwoon’s attention was constantly shifting because his mind worked _excessively fast_. So, too much information reaching his brain at the same time made it difficult to relax, something much needed to sleep.

At some point, Daniel had slid his arm around Sungwoon’s shoulder, and it hat felt so normal he hadn’t even noticed.

“Is this room to your liking?”

The man questioned once they made their way into the third chamber in the hallway. Unlike the rest of the home, it was relatively empty. The walls were coated in a dark red that mirrored the outside of the house, which was ostensive but, at least, there were only 5 paintings hanging from it. In the middle of the room and taking most of the space was a four-post bed with a wooden carved headboard. The covers were velvety and looked luxurious, the cushions did too.

“Definitely.”

He chimed and nodded reassuringly,

“I’ve had time to develop a taste. Although it is hard adjusting to the current aesthetics, I’ve gotten used to that as well.”

Sungwoon was busy taking a good look at the stance. At that moment, he was passing his hand along the dark wood of the boudoir. A small mirror on top of it, looking at Sungwoon with his own eyes. Absentmindedly, he nodded at Daniel.

“You did an excellent job, I don’t really fit the current aesthetic and I like it. Maybe you have a timeless taste.”

The dark-haired chuckled, leaning against the door frame. He was observing him attentively, a satisfied expression in his face.

“Mayhap. Now,” he added, approaching the closet that stood beside the curtained window. “let me find you sleeping clothes.”

Then, it was Sungwoon who nodded. Curiosity took the best of him, so the brunet advanced towards the cabinet Daniel was searching through. It was filled with clothes, most of them of luxury fabrics and colours. Back in his days, there was no such thing as rich people colours, in the now he was living, it was. Red, purple, blue, gold. They painted Daniel’s wardrobe, and Sungwoon couldn’t help but be amazed.

“Those seem a few sizes too little for you, Daniel.” Sungwoon noticed, signalling to a tinier silky camisole in the raven-haired’s hands. “No offense, but you’re _tall and wide_.”

“None taken.” The other answer, dubiously. “They are my old clothes, I thought- “He paused for a second. “and please don’t be upset, that my adolescence clothes may be a better fit.”

Hoping that his beam was answer enough, Sungwoon took the clothing Daniel offered him. It was a dark blue set, with silver embroidery on the collar and sleeves.

“I will be going now, change into these pyjamas and come down the stairs for dinner. If they don’t fit, scream my name and I will get you something else. I hope they do. I will be waiting for you downstairs to guide you to the dinner room.”

For some reason, it felt scary being alone in that big room. It was something about Victorian (he had assumed that was the time) houses that was inherently scary, maybe the numerous movies set in those houses. Whatever it was, it was setting his hairs on edge. Taking a deep sigh, he changed into the pyjamas.

Surprisingly, the fit was perfect, not loose nor tight in anyway. The silky fabric around his body feeling so soft and pleasant he wished he could have those forever. In case he got a little chill, Daniel had left him a robe on the bed. From downstairs, the smell of toasted bread made its way into his room.

As he had told him, Daniel was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. He, too, had changed into sleepwear, his of a burgundy tone with golden embroidery. That tonality was flattering, Sungwoon thought. Daniel’s soft features stood out more, softer in contrast with the intensity of the red. The sweetness his eyes seemed to observe Sungwoon with added to that image. The brunet thought the other was glowing, brighter than the golden in his clothes.

He looks angelic when he laid his hand for Sungwoon to take it.

“Is the bread cooked at home?”

Sungwoon asked as he sat at the table. It was large and spacious, yet Daniel decided to take a seat by his side. Thankfully, because it would’ve felt empty and lonely any other way.

Between them, a fountain of breads of asserted sorts and tiny recipients filled with jams. There was not much to eat, only the bread and a bowl of steaming soup but it was enough, he supposed.

“Yes, I think? I have to admit I don’t do much around here.” Daniel confessed shyly, deviating his eyes from Sungwoon’s. “But I am aware there is a big oven in the kitchens.”

The brunet hummed, nodding with his head.

“So, what do you do all day if you’re not here?”

The other chuckled, reaching for the bread and putting one on each of their plates.

“I own a factory.” Daniel announced. Sungwoon was stunned because he was so young –young looking, at least— and yet… It was to be expected judging by the quality of the house and the fact that he lived alone. “And I’m usually there, supervising the workers. Helping them as well, when they run into some troubles, it’s my factory after all.”

He shrugged. The way he spoke let it show how _common_ he perceived it all to be. A man of his time, with the ideals and expectations of those years. It was fascinating, especially because he had met the same man as a careless student, living in a messy apartment. The lifestyle contrast was stark, but Daniel’s core seemed somehow the same.

“Oh… it must get lonely in this huge house alone, anyway. And if you must take care of the factory on your own it… it is quite hard, right?” Sungwoon paused a second before continuing. “Do your parents not help you or something?”

A ping of sadness crossed the dark-haired’s face, barely even noticeable.

“My parents… they are long gone.”

There was something almost imperceptible in his voice. It was tainted with nostalgia, with longing. It cried of times past and oblivion.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m really, really sorry.”

His hand reached for Daniel’s shoulder out of instinct. He didn’t know how to bring comfort, so he did what he could think about and just went for the physical contact, pressing where his hand touched the other.

Their gazes locked.

Sungwoon had no idea eyes could talk so much.

Daniel stormed out of the room, and he followed.

“Daniel.” Sungwoon called, his hand wrapping itself around Daniel’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He admitted.

It hadn’t even been a minute but Daniel’s eyes were unbelievably red. Tears seemed to be pooling, waiting for the right moment to flow freely.

There was something about the situation, about the close proximity in which they were and the raven-haired’s fragility that tugged at Sungwoon’s heart. Daniel was breaking down in front of his eyes and he just wanted to _fix it_ somehow. He wanted to bring him even closer and make it all okay. He interlaced their hands, cupping the other’s face with his free hand.

“It’s okay, it’s all okay. I’m here, lay it on me.”

Words could be empty, nothing but a pretty carcase.

Right then, they were much more than words.

The morning after, they were seated on Daniel’s bed. It mirrored the one in the guests’ room Sungwoon was staying in. Except, it didn’t take up half of the room. He was resting his back against the headstand, while the other laid by his side with his face facing the covers.

He had held Daniel as he cried, the beautiful sleepwear now stained with salt water. After a while, he had concluded he would be best in his bed where he could fall asleep if he wanted. So, he guided them both into the bedroom.

When Daniel asked him to stay, he couldn’t refuse.

“I was not really young when I was left alone, you know? But I _looked_ young, several years younger than I should have. Maybe that was the beginning of the problem.”

They hadn’t spoken, a comforting silence between the two. It was broken at that moment, and Sungwoon shifted to listen better. He laid down, his back on the bed, his eyes on Daniel.

“At some point, I stopped changing as the world around me continued to do so.”

There was irritation in his voice, a subtle anger at his luck. Then, a sneer.

“I just couldn’t understand why my friends looked older and older while me-my body, did nothing. My parents, they wondered the same thing, observing in horror as I just… remained the same through the years.”

Sungwoon reached for his face, outlining it with his thumb. He could see the tears pooling in Daniel’s eyes again. He could also see how he swallowed them in and resumed his life tragedy.

“It was fear what ultimately drove them away. I always thought it would be nature following its course. I believed I would have to see them fade out in front of my eyes, as I would do in the future with everyone I cared about.

But they left me before any of that happened. One day, they vanished.”

The dark-haired let himself fall, and turned around to face Sungwoon.

“I got home, and they just weren’t there. It was so long ago, I’ve already forgotten how much it hurt. Most of the time, I don’t even care anymore. And yet… sometimes it burns me from the inside, because they were the first sign I would never lead a normal life.”

There it was again, the anger. It was inked in his every word and it rubbed everywhere.

“Sometimes,” he continued. “I am grateful they left like that. Immortality comes with a high price to pay: one just observes, unchanging, as everything withers and dies. Everyone perishes, and you just stand on the sides, like a prop in a theatrical play. Your world vanishes and gives way for a new one to take place, and you’re merely a passive object in the games of time.

You, on the other hand, you’re an active player. You can see what I see, experience all the worlds that I do, yet you will never know the pain of watching it go down in front of your eyes. I’m the stillness whereas you’re movement, like mountains and rain.”

Daniel’s voice was silvery, yet his words were not _beautiful_. His was a story of heartbreak, of death, of destruction. Yet it made Sungwoon want to stay.

They laid in silence, their gazes locked.

Daniel’s eyes had seen so much. Sungwoon’s were young. And they connected, finding something in between, like a limbo in the fabric of time. There was something magical in being able to share Daniel’s days and never staying too long to vanish, yet never leaving at the same time.

“When were you born?”

Sungwoon questioned in a whisper with his eyes full of curiosity.

“Before history as you know it. So far away you couldn’t even travel back to it, you’ve tried before, remember?”

Obviously, he didn’t.

“I don’t think I’m there yet.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“Oh! OH! Sorry, I am incredibly sorry. We agreed on being careful about our experiences together, since we meet in different order but… You spoke as if you were the same as the last time we met, so I just.”

“It’s my fault.” Sungwoon interrupted the dark-haired before he could go on. “I followed along, but it’s only the second time I’ve met you.”

It was clear in Daniel’s face that it had been like a hit. His hand, that was laying on top of Sungwoon’s abdomen, quickly retreated as if his body _burned_. His breathing rhythm increased due to nervousness taking over him.

Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, closing it shortly afterwards.

“I want to keep on meeting you. I’m glad I will, in my future.”

Their dynamic had changed after that incident. Daniel had been less and less physical, no traces of the lingering touches which had seemed to come naturally to him. There was also the way they _spoke_ , a newfound formality in their interactions. It was annoying and just didn’t feel right.

It had been around a week since the brunet had landed on the late 1800s and, so far, they had talked more in the first two days than they did the rest of the week.

Most of the time he was alone in the big house. Daniel did, as he had said, spend most of his day at the fabric. When he got home, he was usually too tired to do anything, even going to bed on an empty stomach.

By the time the second week rolled by, he decided to go out and explore.

Outside awaited a whole world. The broad daylight took away the eeriness, painting it with an appealing glow. It seemed alive, the clacking of carriages against the ground serving as background music, the sound of voices as jubilant centres of every scene.

It was fascinating, how starkly different it was from everything he knew. In that high zone of the city, women strolled around with their pompous dresses, corseted and artificially pale, with their hairs in an intricate up-do. The men, considerably dressed down, with their pseudo suits and hats, their clothes resembling Daniel’s.

Here and there, street vendors offering all kinds of foods and utensils.

Sungwoon was nothing but a mere passenger, journeying across the eras. He marvelled at every little thing, every day more.

Two hours in, and it began to sizzle. The water washed over him, wetting his clothes and face. And Sungwoon ran home.

Surprisingly, Daniel was there.

The boy welcomed him inside, quickly guiding him to the living room where the fireplace flamed. It was hot, comforting. Just like Daniel’s arms around him as he slipped a shawl across his frame to dry him.

“Are you all right?”

The dark-haired worried. His arms were still around Sungwoon, as if they would help the soaking go away (they didn’t).

“Just a little soaked, nothing serious.” The sneezed coming out his mouth was enough to prove him wrong.

What followed were long days in bed, with Daniel taking care of him.

Luckily, between soups and hot towels, the other seemed to forget he wasn’t the Sungwoon he had last met.

“I want to go watch a play.”

Sungwoon cried from the kitchens. Due to his curiosity and free time, the brunet had taken on the mission of exploring every corner of the house. At some point, Daniel had joined him, and they found their spot in the kitchens.

Near to the oven there was a corner where heat concentrated. Obviously, its temperature was slightly better than in the rest of the house, so, they made it _theirs_.

It was oddly comfortable. Even though it was just a corner and two chairs, it felt like the most splendid place on earth.

Between shared looks and hushed conversations, another week passed.

The next Friday, Daniel took him to watch a play.

The theatre was huge, an impressive building in the middle of the city where high sociality gathered. A queue in the entrance made them stand up, waiting for their turn.

“I’ve actually never come here to watch a play.”

The dark-haired announced. There was embarrassment in his voice and face, the tips of his ears turning red.

“I’ve never had anyone to come with. Jaehwan is too annoying.”

Sungwoon didn’t dwell much on the name, taking a mental note to ask him about it later. Right then, it was more important to tease the other, because who would let the opportunity of watching an Oscar Wilde play pass them? Only Daniel.

“But it’s ‘Lady Windermere’s Fan’! I would’ve come even on my own!”

The other scoffed.

“Is that why you waited for me to finally agree?”

Sungwoon pursed his lips, trying to retort wittily. In the end, he opted for the truth.

“That’s because I wanted to watch it _with you_.”

The dark-haired clenched his teeth, a sudden discomfort taking over him. Still, he didn’t let go of Sungwoon’s hand.

The play was everything Sungwoon had imagined it to be. It was remarkable, all the lines delivered to perfection. The feeling of daydream persisting even hours after it was over.

“I liked it.”

Daniel declared while they rode the carriage. The cart jumped with every unevenness in the floor, jolting their bodies as well. At times like those, he wanted to alter history and invent seatbelts.

“It’s one of my favourite plays.”

Sungwoon conceded with a smile.

“Watching it in in the time it was actually conceived is such… a privilege. I really want to thank you for making this possible. Partially.”

He chuckled, his eyes searching for Daniel’s. The other was elusive, staring at their feet.

“It costed me nothing and it made you happy. I’d say it’s a good deal.”

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. His words were always mellow, and Sungwoon was more and more receptive each time.

“Are _you_ happy?”

The brunet inquired. He was staring at Daniel, the faint light that filtered through the carriage’s windows illuminating his features just right. He was beautiful, not in an intimidating way. No, he was simple, soft; his eyes resembled those of a puppy, and his lips were plump and rosy. His eyelashes long and numerous. They stood close enough he could even count them.

Sungwoon was amazed.

“I don’t think there is an accurate answer for that. But I am contented right now, and that’s enough.”

“I suppose it is. But you don’t _sound_ all that happy.”

The brunet signalled, emphasizing on the last word. The dark-haired chuckled, his fingers drumming on the hat that rested on his legs.

“I guess I can’t stop feeling like something’s missing. It creates a void in my body that’s waiting to be filled yet I don’t know _how_ to fill it.” He pronounced with so little feeling in his voice that it was scary. “Although I have to admit each passing day it becomes smaller and smaller. I guess it will just disappear.”

The carriage took a halt and Daniel took Sungwoon’s hand.

“We’re home.”

At some point, it began feeling like home.

Life with Daniel was not only easy but comfortable too. The awkwardness between them that appeared after that one conversation quickly faded. Day after day, they began spending more time together.

Since the roulette of luck in which time travel seemed to work had landed him in a jobless life, he was incredibly bored having nothing to do all day. Admittedly, it was _easy_ having someone (Daniel) taking care of him, yet he longed for more.

That was the reason he asked Daniel for a job at his factory. The other gladly agreed and it was set. The job wasn’t undemanding, on the contrary. It was physically tiring, always standing up and barely no time to catch a breath. But it was something, and it also had Daniel.

The dark-haired did, indeed, spend most of the time supervising the workers. Those people were his personnel, yet he treated them with the outmost care and respect. They were individuals, not a whole mass of people making his factory go on. It was mutual, from what he could tell, his now partners having only kind words for their boss.

The same workmates who were slowly becoming friends too. They bonded over the long hours at the machinery. Tending the same one he did were Jinyoung and Jihoon. They were younger than Sungwoon, which didn’t mean they were, in any way, less mature. Instead, they had experienced life more than he had, and knew many tricks and shortcuts for life. They had learnt to curve every ball, as one would say. After experiencing misfortune for seventeen years out of nineteen, they had arrived at the fabric’s door. Daniel had given them a job and paid them enough to be able to sleep in a motel until they could find a place.

Daniel was truly an angel, the brunet thought, assimilating how lucky he was to have run into the other. Maybe that was the whole reason behind his jumps, maybe he was always meant to meet Daniel.

It would be a good destiny.

He marvelled in his luck every time the other waited for him to end his shift, carriage outside the fabric. They would talk about their days, even if they had shared most of it with the other. Somehow, Daniel would always wonder at whatever Sungwoon had to say, whether it was about Jihoon and Jinyoung or about how tasty the food he had eaten was.

Sungwoon, too, would pay Daniel the outmost attention, completely focused in his stories. He was just so incredibly kind it just showed in the way he spoke, his voice always so bright and rich. What the brunet loved specially was the way his eyes lit at the slightest thing. They shone the same when he told him about a particularly good transaction and when he was just rambling about life. They always shone a little brighter when their eyes met.

“Will you leave?”

Daniel asked in a whisper as soon as they had settled in the living room. The couch had already adjusted to the shape of their bodies and the way they had begun to scoop closer and closer each time. Sungwoon sat on the right end, with his legs up in the cushion –the dark-haired had found it strange when it first happened but ended up taking after that habit too—. Daniel sat in the middle of it, Sungwoon’s feet almost touching his. With his left hand he straddled Sungwoon’s hair, the brunet leaning to the touch.

Settled like that, Daniel had surely felt the way Sungwoon jolted at the question, shying away from his warmth. It had been so long since he arrived there, he had gotten completely used to his life. He was already accustomed to the routine of waking up, having breakfast with the other, leaving for work and then, coming home with Daniel. Daniel. Daniel. Daniel.

He was afraid of admitting to himself how much he had let the other into his heart.

There was a big portion of him (the bigger one) that knew he wouldn’t be able to go without Daniel from then on but still… Still he wanted to go back to his family, his life.

Ha Sungwoon was no liar.

“I don’t know.”

He answered. And he truly didn’t.

“I’m wishing you will stay, just this once.”

The other whispered, slowly closing the distance between them.

“I can’t make any promises.”

It was close to a silence cry.

Their eyes locked, telling each other what their mouths couldn’t.

Sungwoon’s spoke of fear. Fear of his own feelings. Fear of making the wrong decision. Daniel’s answered with hope. With a plea.

He could make no promises, but he could comply for as long as he stayed.

It was shorter than a breath, the way their lips met. Yet, a mere second expanded itself immensely, allowing the both of them to relish in the sensations. He could feel Daniel, soft and sweet. He could feel how well their mouths fit, like they were always meant to lock. Then, they broke apart.

The magical space they had created at that eternal second called their lips to meet again.

And they did, until night gave way to the day. Light found them lying in the couch, Sungwoon tucked in Daniel’s arms like he could hold him forever that way.

 

Daniel kissed him in a way he had never been kissed.

Before, it had been a simple meeting, a crashing of lips that moved to accommodate themselves. Kisses so far had been enjoyable, nice. But Daniel’s weren’t meant to be nice, they were meant to be significant.

Daniel kissed him like he only wanted to be forever to Sungwoon.

It was when he began kissing back with the same intensity, his body aching for Daniel and trying to find a way to just be _closer_ when he realised how far gone he was.

It didn’t take longer after that to close his eyes and leave.

 

 

 

> Distant Future.

 

 

There was nothing in his mind as he jumped, just the need to get out of there before it got out of hand. His head was spinning and, for the first time, he felt his body being dragged along the breaks in time. He could physically sense the way the world bended and expanded to fit his wishes.

His mind must’ve been too clouded to wish properly, he realised when high, round and bright buildings filled his sight. The lights were blinding despite it being night time, shining with the strength of the stars. Actual stars, though, were nowhere to be found in the skyline.

It was so incredibly noisy, even in comparison with the constant clatters back in the 1800s, that he had to cover his ears to prevent his head from exploding.

“Get out of the starroad, asshole!”

Someone shouted at him, beeping in her car –though he was not sure that’s what it was—. Sungwoon jumped out of the path, and let the cubbish female go her merry way. She continued to shout obscenities, anyway.

He scratched the back of his head as he walked. Every step he took, a weirder building appeared in front of his eyes. The architecture so diverse and complex he couldn’t help but gaze at them, his mouth agape. He guessed he was in the future and it was both everything he had ever imagined and nothing like he had in mind.

Being the Star Wars enthusiast he was, he knew life was made in the bars, so off he went.

Unlike in the Star Wars verse, taverns weren’t old-looking places full of creatures that looked nothing like humans. Instead, they were like his usual bars, except modern. Waiters pressed a button and the drinks appeared in front of the customer. The customer didn’t have to order out loud, instead, they could just write it on the screens that made out the bar and they would appear.

The one he walked in was called ‘maRoon’. It was white, shiny. Fluorescent panels filled the whole scene, adding to the artificial vibe. To him, it mirrored a box music video setting mixed with an inn. He couldn’t complain.

He ordered a beer after determining it was the most common looking item on the menu and hoped for the best. Not even a second later, there it was, freezing in his hands and better than expected.

“Tasty? It’s the best beer around.”

The voice came from a blond girl who sat next to him. She laid her head on the counter, the waiter not even bothering to tell her off. Turquoise neoprene pants hugged her short legs tightly, and a pastel lilac shirt completed the look. In her hand, a glass that emitted a goldish glow that both scared and intrigued Sungwoon.

“I like it very much, but I haven’t tried many beers around him.”

The girl chuckled.

“It’s not that hard to figure out you’re not from around here. Wanting to pay instantly gave you away, among other things.”

She commented as she took a sip from her drink, almost finishing it.

“Enjoy your drink, pretty man. I’m off now.”

And just like that, she left. Sungwoon just sat there, stunted. His stared at the door with an unreadable expression, the surrealism of what had happened making him laugh after a second.

It was cut short when Daniel walked in. He had pink hair then, and wore a grey neoprene suit –apparently it was the fabric of the time— that enhanced his figure and it was unfair how much Sungwoon wanted to run to him.

It was heart-breaking how Daniel avoided his gaze, purposefully looking down. After that, Sungwoon spent the whole night searching for the other, to no avail. The pink-haired mirrored smoke, fading between Sungwoon’s hands when he thought he was close enough.

There was sadness in Daniel’s eyes the only time he could gaze at him. It was so deep that it got to Sungwoon’s heart, breaking him from the inside too.

For the second time in hours, he closed his eyes in hopes of going far away.

 

 

 

 

> Ancient Greece.

 

 

Probably due to overworking, the landing didn’t go smoothly anymore. He stumbled with his feet. His hair was spinning. He had no idea where he was. And then he just _wasn’t_.

The world went black and he fell imp to the ground.

Except, he didn’t. A lanky boy was doing his best to keep him from tumbling. Thankfully, Sungwoon was not heavy, and between two boys they managed to get him inside a house. There were times like those when he marvelled at human nature. It could be destructive, but sometimes it could show the outmost kindness and generosity.

Two complete strangers had taken him from the streets and gave him bed. They expected nothing in return, yet they treated him kindly and gave him food in the morning. They shared bread after rushed introductions, one Sungwoon had to made up in that second.

“My name is Woojin.” Said the smaller of the two. “And this is Guanlin, my helper. He’s a foreigner, so he doesn’t speak much.”

Sungwoon nodded, smiling at them.

“I’m Sungwoon. I just came to the polis and my body had given in after long days of travel. That’s when you found me, so I have to thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

The tall boy hadn’t said a word yet, but he kept on giving him warm smiles and food.

“It’s nothing but basic humanity.”

“Yet I would like to repay you.”

Sungwoon argued quickly. Woojin seemed to deliberate for a second, his mouth twisting in nervousness.

“Perhaps you could come help me at the shop so I can give Guanlin some free days?”

And that was how Sungwoon found himself transporting vessels. And not only that, but all kinds of fragile artefacts. With his tiny body. But he was okay.

He was in charge of transport and tending the –not very numerous— clients. Woojin took care of negotiations and actually creating the bowls they were selling. After their shop closed, Woojin would give him bed too, as well as food to pay for his hard work.

It was easy, but he would be gone after that week. 2018 awaited, and he wanted his life back.

That had been the main reason he left Daniel behind. Victorian era had been too much. He had spent there longer than a year in which he had completely accustomed himself to the times. But not only that. He had shaped his personality to Daniel’s, gotten so used to having him around that his body physically ached at the thought of maybe never having him again. And it was scary, the way he had begun to unconsciously search for the other at every given moment. How everything had changed after their first kiss, three months filled with caresses that followed. At some point, they commenced to mean _too much_ and he couldn’t take it.

And so, he had left.

It would never happen again. The losing track of his actual life. Seongwoo had, indeed, warned him about creating meaningful affective ties. He had heard it, loud and clear… but fell for Victorian Daniel anyway. Even more than that.

He knew Daniel was immortal, but it was not a sure event to meet him in 2018 again. And even if he did, it wouldn’t be his Daniel, not entirely. Life changes a person, and even if he looked the same, he would be shaped differently, experiences piling in his head. Maybe he forgot about Sungwoon, even.

The brunet never asked, but he couldn’t obviously remember _everything_. No human head could hold that much information. He wondered how it felt, to forget entire periods of your life, even meaningful ones. He hoped he had been impactful enough to stay forever.

Then, Daniel’s voice interrupted his train of thought and he deemed it to be a fragment of his imagination.

“Excuse me?”

At that era, his hair mirrored the brunet of Sungwoon’s. It softened his features even more than the pink had done, the puppy vibe being stronger than ever. He wore a chiton, golden pins holding it in place from the shoulders. His chest was partially exposed, but the wide belt kept it from being too dangerous. He looked different, younger too.

But the main difference wasn’t his hair colour, or his clothes. No. It was the lack of recognition.

Before, his eyes had always sparked when looking at Sungwoon, and he had treated him with familiarity. This time, Sungwoon was a mere salesman, and Daniel was a customer. He had tried to hold a conversation but Daniel left after buying whatever he needed (a wicker basket).

The week was over right that afternoon, but his body felt heavy after the encounter. So much that he couldn’t leave, his head too clouded to risk jumping. With his temporary “contract” finished, it didn’t feel right to stay where he was.

That night, he waved Woojin goodbye and wished him for the best.

Like many times before, he let his feet guide him wherever he had to be. Autopilot was what worked when he had no idea where to go, so he instinctively took turns and walked, and walked, and walked until he couldn’t walk anymore.

“Where have you been, young man?!” A woman much older than him called from a house nearby. She was looking at him with a mix of anger and worry in his eyes that made him feel like a disappointment. He guessed she was his mother. “We’ve been looking everywhere hoping to find you! For a whole week!”

Sungwoon approached her while looking down, a little embarrassed. Truth be told, he hadn’t even given it a thought, it being the life Seongwoo had made for him in that era. He had been thoughtless, as he was half of the time.

They weren’t his family, but he was family for them. That meant they cared and they worried. Back in 50s he had quickly assimilated that due to his memory loss, but it was difficult to wrap one’s mind around such an idea. A different family awaited in every era, a whole life.

“I got lost?” He answered dubiously.

“I told you to not travel alone! But you always do what you want! We thought you had been sold as a slave! Or killed!”

She exclaimed, exasperated. It was clear in her voice the number of headaches Sungwoon gave her on a daily basis –no matter how fictional they were—. When he reached her place, she embraced him warmly and took him inside.

The house was more austere than Woojin’s but what it lacked in decoration was made up in homeliness. The place was warm and welcoming. Likeable. A little dull, too, which he didn’t like much.

“Everyone is up on the roof eating under the Sun.”

The woman announced, walking to the patio. She signalled at him to go up, urging even more with her right hand. Sungwoon had actually no idea how to get to the roof because there was not a sign of stairs anywhere. Following her hand, he went outside.

A very unsafe looking wooden tread rested on the front of the house and he really didn’t want to climb it. After a resigned sigh, he approached them. He put his foot on the first step carefully, holding onto the handrail for dear life. Slowly but surely, he made his way to the top.

A man he assumed was his father sat there with a younger boy who was probably his brother.

“Good morning!”

He sang cheerfully. The oldest man’s face went through a myriad of emotions, setting for a slight disappointment with a pinch of relief. The grey-haired greeted Sungwoon, and the other boy did too. They invited him to sit with them, pouring him a drink immediately.

From up there, he could spot most of the polis. The big and open Agora was close, something he had to make sure to visit before leaving for good. Actually, he wanted to visit most of what his eyes could meet, eager to just _know_.

Two hours later, when it was polite to stand up, he left. On his way down, he made sure not to fall due to his trembling legs.

His eyes had surely underestimated the distance between the house and the Agora, because he had been walking for around thirty minutes yet he wasn’t any closer. The uphill of it all was the city tour he had taken, 9/10 would recommend (no full points because he was tired).

Ultimately, he got to visit the Agora. It was huge and bustling with life. Conversations could be heard all around, voiced mixing with each other to form an unintelligible mutter. Many would call it noise, but it was nice. Sungwoon liked people, so, he enjoyed the situations when he was surrounded by vivacity. It was true he had no idea how to engage in conversations he had no actual idea of the subject.

In his head it played like this: “Yes, I love Plato! I wish I could get schooled by him!” He would say, making his way into the conversation. “Who?” Would they answer, being around 300 years before Plato was born, probably.

Instead of causing any awkward situations, he just wandered around between the togas. He thought he had seen a familiar face, protruding cheeks and loud laugh but it must’ve been his mind playing games because it made no sense. He shook his head and continued walking with no direction.

Then, he saw him again. This time, Jaehwan saw him too, even waving, like it (see: meeting in Ancient Greece after meeting in 2018 **and** the 70s) was the most normal thing ever. A confused Sungwoon approached the boy, shooting questions with his eyes.

“Out of every setting I would expect to meet you, here and right now was not it.”

The other did nothing but guffaw in that obnoxious way of his. This left the brunet very stunted because that was not the answer he was expecting. His life seemed to grow more and more intricate by the second. Was Jaehwan immortal too?

“Didn’t you figure it out? I thought you would.”

He obviously hadn’t, and made it well known for the other who looked at him funnily. Sungwoon hated the smug on Jaehwan’s face because it was obvious he knew something he didn’t and, honestly, Sungwoon usually didn’t deal well with not being the most knowledgeable in the room.

Thankfully, the other was not the type to keep any sort of information to himself.

“When we met in the 70s I wasn’t sure if you would recognise me.” He began. “Given that we’ve never met in 2018 for long.”

“I did.” Sungwoon affirmed.

“I know. But you never asked, I assumed you either didn’t want to know or already knew.” He shrugged. They were walking aimlessly around the polis. “And when I had decided to tell even if you happened to be against it, you were gone. But you are not going to escape me now. Mainly because it’s not that long of a story.

So, hello, I’m Kim Jaehwan! Time police at your service or rather, at Daniel’s service. We have the task track down anomalies in time. Our friend Daniel is an anomaly in himself, so I’m supposed to be with him throughout his whole life. Here comes a spoiler: I’m not.”

Jaehwan sat down on a rock that was laying around. Sungwoon would’ve preferred to keep on walking.

“I will be granted permission to settle in 2018 because I will leave Daniel in good hands, and also because I will find someone with whom I want to share whatever time I have left. Why telling you this? Because my partner Ong Seongwoo alerted me of some _slight_ disturbances in your timeline.

Let me tell you this: I will leave Daniel with _you_. Which means you better make sure that you get back to your time.”

But at that moment, like Jaehwan’s words had carried some kind of curse in them, Sungwoon was hit by an arrow.

He could see Jaehwan’s distorted face, scared until his last bone. Someone running towards them and lifting him off the ground was the last thing he could feel before losing consciousness.

There were tiny moments of lucidity.

He believed he was bleeding out because blood was everything he could see, taste, feel, smell.

Then, nothing at all, before being hit by red all over again.

After a while, he was just exhausted, but his heart kept on fighting.

Judging by the sounds that reached his ears, a war had broken. Was he in the heart of it? _When_ was he, anyway?

He regained full consciousness in three days.

Jaehwan had had something to do with it. He had broken some rules to save him, he called him an investment for his future.

Apparently, Daniel was looking for his best friend Jaehwan and found them right when the war broke out. It was said to be a war of gods, bigger than every war before, and Sungwoon just happened to be standing on the edge between the lands. Fortunately, the taller had picked him up and guided him into the Jaehwan’s house where the other tended to his wounds attentively until he recovered.

Feeling a strange responsibility towards him, Daniel hadn’t left his bedside.

He almost died.

The thought took a while to get through his skull but when it did, it hit him with full force. He was on the brink of death and he hadn’t seen his family again. He had no idea if Minhyun did dye his hair blond. He hadn’t passed his exams. He hadn’t _lived_.

There was something else tugging at his chest. A name, inked in his heart for a while now. Daniel. Daniel who didn’t know him yet but had saved him and held his hand. Daniel who stayed just so he wouldn’t die alone.

Daniel, who would die alone, the last person standing in the world.

That same afternoon, he was completely recovered, not even the slightest pain in his body. He left Jaehwan’s house after bidding him goodbye. Then, he closed his eyes to jump, missing the way the younger gave him a sad smile.

Sungwoon had never stopped to think about the way the world would end. He knew it would, but he was sure he was not going to be alive to watch it burn and fade away.

But life was a funny thing.

 

 

 

 

> The End of Time.

 

 

There was a nothingness, a void in front of his eyes that was starting to take up everything that ever was. The world seemed to be bending to the will of the hollowness, becoming smaller and smaller. In the middle of it all, a boy.

Daniel sat quietly in front of the abyss, like he was waiting to be eaten. Even if he had the same face, he had never looked older. His eyes were tired, barely a spark left behind them. He knew it was the end, and he longed for it.

It was devastating, but he approached him. His hand lingered over Daniel’s shoulder, unsure. In the end, he let it fall, letting it rest on the other’s body. When their eyes met, it was as if a new Big Bang took place and everything existed again inside of Daniel.

“You kept your promise.” He whispered, hopeful.

Sungwoon had no idea what he meant, but he guessed he didn’t have to.

He crouched to meet Daniel’s lips as the void grew bigger and engulfed the two of them.

Sungwoon closed his eyes at the last possible breath of time.

 

 

 

 

> 2018.

 

 

It was magical, the way the world worked.

He opened his eyes to the same moment he was when he last was _then_. His mother was in the middle of calling his name, only “woon” left to be said.

“Mom, I think I’m not going to have lunch today.”

One would guess travelling to the end of time would do that to you, that being feeling like life had left your body so, he barely had time to answer before passing out of the bed.

It was hard getting used to be home again. He wondered if it would ever stop. The tightness on his chest and the out of place memories.

They did. It took shorter than expected. He was busy all the time between piano classes, exams (acing History as of late) and social life. He jumped into his routine as soon as possible, hoping for the ping in his chest to disappear, and it worked for the most part.

“You’ve been out of it.”

Minhyun, who had gone blond, nagged. His friend’s words came with a hit to his right arm, making him snap out of his daydream.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I don’t know what goes on inside my mind lately.”

The blonde sighed loudly, obviously intended for him to hear it. He, too, was disappointed he couldn’t give the other a truthful answer but he was not going to try to sum up everything that had happened during the last year and a half (maybe a little more, but who could keep track?).

“As I was saying, you’re meeting Jaehwan today. I have to admit I’m afraid of how that combination is going to go but I can’t put this off anymore because it’s borderline insulting that my best friend doesn’t know my boyfriend.”

Jaehwan’s name had picked his attention. He had almost forgotten about their relationship, too caught up in his own problems. From the looks of it, those two truly hit it off after their date and things were going steady. He didn’t ask, though.

He had noticed that he had missed out on his own life. While he travelled, he never gave it too much thought and after coming back and arriving at the exact same moment he left, he just assumed nothing happened.

The trick was, that it wasn’t during the last jump when he was truly _gone_.

To sum up, there was a space of two whole weeks he didn’t actively participate in yet everyone believed he did (he knew this hoax well).

Knowing Minhyun, he wasn’t going to risk rage from hell because he forgot something as important as his friend getting a boyfriend.

“I’m up for it, just say when.”

He wasn’t, not truly.

He had tried to erase every trace of what had happened, deeming it easier somehow. At the same time, he hadn’t forgotten a word of what Jaehwan had said to him about the future. There was a constant conflict inside of him that didn’t look like ending any time soon.

“Well…” The sly grin on Minhyun’s lips couldn’t mean anything good. “How does right now sound?”

There it was. The meaning behind the smile.

A mop of brown hair peeped behind the door shortly after, like he was waiting for Minhyun’s signal –he probably was—. A smirking Jaehwan appeared in the café and approached them both. He was facing Sungwoon, who looked at him in recognition yet trying not to show too much reaction for the sake of Minhyun. Actually, it was for his own sake because it was him who would have to undergo a third grade, courtesy of his best friend.

Jaehwan nodded softly, a beam on his lips. He dropped down in the seat beside Minhyun, giving him a peck on the lips. Sungwoon _had_ to make a disgusted sound, for the sake of friendship.

“No PDA in front of my salad, please.”

The couple chuckled. He had to admit it felt right, seated right there with those two. Even if his mind couldn’t exactly wrap itself around the idea of Jaehwan being a time police who was dating his best friend. Nonetheless, their relationship seemed the only normal course of action. It was Minhyun the reason Jaehwan gave up immortality, after all.

Conversation flowed freely with Sungwoon and Jaehwan more often than not ganging up on Minhyun, the latter complaining about it, screaming something about him being the only reason they had met (if only he knew!).

He was too caught up in a heated Marvel discussion (Best Avenger Award: Iron Man, one solitary point from Minhyun; Spider-Man, two points because Jaehwan and Sungwoon were intellectuals) he almost didn’t notice the red-head that waved at Jaehwan. He nearly missed the way the boy’s eyes lingered on him longer than it was normal.

Thankfully, he didn’t.

He deviated his gaze from the couple, and focused on the red-haired. On Daniel. He was looking at Daniel. Jaehwan kicked him from under the table and that was the only thing that kept him from running to the other.

“Is that Daniel?” Minhyun asked Jaehwan. Sungwoon’s mind literally went ‘boom’ at that second. “Hey, Daniel! Come join us!”

Then, his friend turned to him, smiling brightly.

“That’s Jaehwan’s best friend.” He explained. “He’s really nice, I hope you’ll like him.”

It was ironic, the way life worked sometimes.

As he kissed Daniel under the starts that night, he was thankful of the magic, the nonsense, the inexplicable.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut this short (kinda) so I feel there were some things I couldn't explain.
> 
> 1\. yes, daniel and sungwoon stay together.  
> 2\. daniel is immortal, sungwoon isn't.  
> 3\. sungwoon doesn't age ~phisically.  
> 3\. this means, sungwoon dies. when he's on his deadbed, he promises daniel they will meet again because he knows for a fact they do and that's the promise daniel refers to in the end of the world. also, sungwoon dies shortly before their brief encounter in the distant future, which is why daniel is upset in that era.
> 
>  
> 
> if you're confused about something else, i encourage you to comment because i actually have a whole world thought out i couldnt really include story-wise?? 
> 
> anyway, thank you SO MUCH!!! for reading mwah ♥
> 
>  
> 
> p.s: catch me on twitter @hwangsorbit


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